Star Crossed And Sparks Fly – A Quinntana Story
by jenung97102
Summary: Quinn is a vigilante assassin with deadly skills and a conscience. Santana is a by-the-book law enforcement agent on the rise. Santana is working on a big case, and Quinn becomes a prime suspect. The two cross paths, and sparks fly, in more ways than one. Feelings develop, but what's to happen, since the two are on opposite sides of the law? AU/OOC. Quinntana endgame.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all, I came up with another idea for a Quinntana story. Thanks to Karishma for notifying me about Quinntana week. I thought about submitting this story for that, but it may be too long, and I may not get it done in time. But, Karishma suggested that I post the story anyway, and I thought it would be fun to write, so here it is. As before with my other stories, I will be uploading by chapters.

WARNING: This story is AU/OOC, but I will try to stay true to at least some of each character's personalities as they are in the canonical world of Glee. Also, people outside of the world of Glee that I may incorporate into the story, as well as other places and things, may be altered. In addition, as with my other stories, this story will contain conflict, tension, drama, and mature themes. One other disclaimer - this story will contain a little bit of violence.

Chapter 1

The assassin laid in the darkness, perched on the rooftop of a four-story building. She was wearing all black, her long golden blond hair tied back in a pony tail. She peered through the scope of her rifle and traced her shot to the doorway of the restaurant across the street and partway down the block. Any minute now, her targets would be exiting. She had been tracking them for over six months. She knew that, every Sunday, they ate dinner here, at Salvatore's on Taylor Street, in the section of Chicago known as Little Italy. They always arrived at seven and left anywhere between nine and ten. Last Sunday, the assassin had dined in the restaurant, arriving slightly before seven. She had seen her targets arrive right at seven with a phalanx of six bodyguards. She had dined alone and then left right after her targets had departed, around 9:42. She checked her watch. It was now 9:37. Tonight, she had arrived in the neighborhood at 6:30. She had drank a cappuccino at a coffee shop across the street from the restaurant and had seen her targets enter the restaurant at seven with the same phalanx of bodyguards. Then she went around the block to her car, changed out of her sundress and sandals into her black tactical outfit, grabbed her rifle bag, and had entered the building and climbed to the rooftop. She had set up her rifle and since then had been laying dead still for two and a half hours, as dusk turned to darkness, waiting for them to exit. She had jammed the access door to the rooftop so she would remain undisturbed. She had wiggled her toes and fingers every five minutes, keeping her extremities mobile, since, once her targets emerged from the restaurant, she would need to act instantly.

The assassin felt herself drifting, so she allowed herself to relax for a few seconds. She closed her eyes for three seconds and then opened them. The world sharpened, and she felt herself refocus. Her hands never left the barrel and the trigger. She peered through the scope of her rifle again and traced her shot again. Just under three hundred yards. Her longest shot had been seven hundred yards. She started to look at her watch again, and as she did, she heard the sound of two car motors. She looked up and saw two black Mercedes sedans pull up in front of the restaurant. The assassin had seen her targets exit these vehicles, and she had no doubt that the vehicles were armor plated. The driver of each vehicle got out, scanned the street, then walked around to the curbside and opened the door to the back seat. The assassin took a deep breath and peered back through the scope. Her targets would be exiting the restaurant any minute now. She had one chance, maybe three seconds at most, to take out both targets. Any misses, or any longer than three seconds, and her targets would be in their bulletproof vehicles. Months of waiting and careful planning would be down the drain. She could not fail. She took another deep breath and waited.

Thirty seconds later, four men the size of professional wrestlers wearing Italian cut suits exited the restaurant. They scanned the street quickly and then motioned behind them. The two targets came out of the restaurant, talking with each other and walking slowly to the cars. Five more seconds and they would be inside. The assassin took one last deep breath, exhaled slowly, and then gently squeezed the trigger. The bullet traveled through the silencer and hit the first target in the right temple. He went limp instantly and fell to the ground. The second target registered that something was seriously wrong and started to shout for help, but he was a second too late. Before he could get a word out, a bullet struck him right between the eyes, and he went down as fast as the first target. Chaos erupted outside of the front of the restaurant as the bodyguards sprung into action. Passersby scattered as four of the bodyguards formed a defensive perimeter and raised their weapons while the other two bodyguards checked on the targets. It was an impressive display of activity, but it was all for naught, as they were too late. The targets had died before they hit the ground. As panic set into the mafia personnel currently outside Salvatore's, the assassin raised herself to a crouching position. She quickly dismantled and then stowed her rifle into a soft case that she slung over her shoulder, then picked up the two spent shell casings and put them in her pocket. Then, she peered up over the side of the building at the chaos that had developed on the street below.

Amid the chaos, one of the bodyguards thought he saw the slightest bit of movement on a rooftop across the street and halfway down the block, but he couldn't be sure, and as his associates continued to shout and the sound of an ambulance siren approached, the assassin stood up, backed into the shadows, and disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Chevy Caprice sped down Ashland Avenue and rounded the corner onto Taylor Street. It skidded to a stop as it reached Salvatore's, and Special Agent Santana Lopez stepped out of the passenger's side. Agent Noah Puckerman put the car in park and exited the vehicle leaving the engine running. He caught up with Santana as she made her way through the local cops and the press that were already on the scene.

"Damn, Lopez. What the hell do you think happened here?"

"I don't know, Puck. But I see Finn. Let's find out." They approached Detective Finn Hudson of the Chicago Police Department, who was standing right outside the entrance to Salvatore's. He was wearing a rugby shirt and jeans, and he was smoking a cigarette.

"Finn", Santana called out. Finn turned around and tossed the cigarette on the ground.

"Lopez", Finn said. She was wearing her black JOCT windbreaker, jeans and black boots with a stacked heel. He stuck out his hand, and Santana shook it. Finn looked at Puck and said coolly, "Agent Puckerman." Puck was wearing a navy blue FBI windbreaker and jeans.

"You should quit smoking those things. They'll kill you", Puck said, pointing to the cigarette butt that Finn had tossed on the ground.

"You should quit running your mouth, or I might kill you", Finn retorted. He took a step towards Puck, who took a step forward in return, but Santana got between them.

"Alright, look – knock it off you two, or I'll kill both of you", Santana said. The two men took a step back, and Santana said, "Alright, Finn. What do you know?"

Finn turned to Santana and looked her in the eye. Santana worked for the Joint Organized Crime Taskforce, or JOCT for short. It was a newly developed partnership between the FBI and local police departments that was tasked with combating organized crime and gangs operating in the major cities of the United States. The original model of law enforcement was that the FBI was in charge of organized crime, and local law enforcement was responsible for gang activity in their cities, but with the consolidation of power between different gang segments and the escalating conflict between local gangs and the mafia over the control of drugs, guns, and other vice-related activities, that model had become outdated. Enter JOCT, whose purpose was to coordinate law enforcement effort between the FBI, who had the overall view of organized crime in the United States, and local law enforcement, who had their finger on the pulse of local crime activity. Puck was Santana's partner from the FBI. Finn was Santana's local partner who knew Chicago's mafia and gangs inside and out. Puck and Finn still harbored a bit of the old rivalry between the FBI and local law enforcement, but Santana got on well with both of them, and since she had started coordinating the efforts of the FBI and the Chicago PD, she had made considerable headway in eliminating that rivalry between the two of them. Both Finn and Puck respected her, and in the two years the three of them had been working together, they had taken down some major players in the Chicago crime scene, both on the mafia side and on the gang side.

"The victims are Alberto Costello and Vincenzo Pazzarelli", Finn began.

"Wow. Heavy hitters", Santana said. Costello was the underboss of the Marano crime family, by far the largest mafia family in Chicago. Pazzarelli was his top lieutenant. These guys were close to the top of the food chain. These guys getting whacked was big, and something in Santana's gut told her that this could get ugly. "What the hell happened here?"

Finn nodded in agreement. "Two shots", he continued. "One tap to each victim. Costello was shot through the right temple. Pazzarelli was shot right between the eyes."

"Any witnesses?" Santana asked.

"Nope. They had six bodyguards the size of professional wrestlers with them. None of them saw a thing. We have them down at the station right now, but they're not gonna be able to tell us anything."

"Any ideas?" Puck asked.

"It wasn't a drive-by. Most likely M.O. was a sniper, maybe somewhere on one of the rooftops across the street, judging by the angle at which the victims were hit."

Santana looked across the street. Most of the buildings immediately across from the restaurant were two story flats. Any bodyguard who is any good would have seen someone there with a rifle, and Santana had busted enough of the Marano family to know that their bodyguards were very good. She looked further down the block across the street in each direction. "Okay, if we go with that theory, then the nearest likely place for a sniper to perch and wait would have been at that building right there", Santana said. She pointed to the nearest taller building, a four story condo complex halfway down the block. "But, that rooftop has gotta be like three hundred yards away."

"Yeah, I know", Finn replied. "I just don't see any other way how it could have gone down."

Puck looked at Finn. "So, who did it? The Disciples? Another family?" The Chicago Disciples were the largest street gang in the city, and the Marano family's main competition in the distribution of guns and drugs.

"No", Finn said, shaking his head. "The Marano family has pretty much swallowed up all of the other crime families here in the city. You know that. As for the Disciples, well, this isn't their style. They would have waited in vans on the street, and then they would have sprayed the entire crew as they came out of the restaurant. No, this is something else."

"So…what are you saying, Finn?" Santana asked. "That we have a new player in the game?" She didn't like that. This war was already heated enough. Ever since the Marano family had pretty much pushed out all of the other mafia families in the city, and the Disciples had consolidated all of the myriad of street gangs under one umbrella, the conflict had escalated into a whole new level. Pretty soon, Santana feared, it would come to an all-out war between the two factions, and there would be a lot of dead bodies caught in the crossfire.

"I don't know", Finn said. "I don't know if we have a new player. But", he said, and then dug into his pocket for another cigarette. He lit it and blew the smoke in Puck's direction. Puck waved his hand and shot Finn a look of caution.

Santana put her hand up to Puck to stop him from reacting any further, and said, "But what, Finn? And blow that smoke somewhere else. You might get me next time instead."

Finn took another drag off his cigarette and said, "But, I can tell you this. Whoever did this…is a professional." He looked at Puck and then Santana and said, "I'll be in touch. Feel free to hit me up if you need anything." He winked at Puck and then turned around and walked away.

"That fuckin' guy. Southside Chicago Irish", Puck said. "I swear, sometimes I just wanna pound him."

"C'mon", Santana said, ignoring the remark. "Let's have a look around."

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"So, this is where the assassin may have been", Santana said. She and Puck were standing on the rooftop of the four story building that Santana had pointed out earlier when they were talking with Finn. The access door to the rooftop had been jammed when they had arrived, and Puck had to bust it open.

"San, do you really think a sniper sat up here and then took out two of the top guys in the Marano family?"

"I don't know", Santana said, "but Finn is right. There aren't any other families around anymore to challenge the Marano's, and I agree with him that, if this had been the Disciples, they would have sprayed the entire restaurant with bullets when those two came out. Plus", she looked at Puck, "Why was the door jammed shut when we got up here? It was as if someone came up here and then jammed the door so they wouldn't be disturbed."

Puck scoffed. "I think this is a waste of time", Puck said. He sat down on a ledge near the access door as Santana took out a flashlight and scoured the rooftop. She squatted near the edge and looked over. She could see the restaurant half a block down. From here, it would have been a clean shot for a good shooter. No one on the street would have seen him. Or her. Santana stared for a moment longer and tried to imagine how it would have happened. Then, she looked at the ground. She was about to stand up when something caught her eye. She shined her flashlight on the ground and saw it. Something glimmered in the light. At first she thought it was a gold chain, but then she took a closer look. It was a piece of blond hair, about sixteen inches long. Santana picked it up and held it up to the street light. It was a brilliant blonde, almost like it had a touch of gold in it. Must be the light, she thought. She stared at it for a moment and then shined her flashlight again onto the ground. Nothing else. She looked at the hair in her hand. Probably nothing, she thought. A hair from some tenant who was sunbathing on the roof. It was July in Chicago, after all, and Chicagoans loved to sunbathe in the three months that this city actually had warm weather.

"Find something?" Puck asked. He was still sitting on his ledge and casually inspecting his gun.

"No, nothing", Santana said. She put the piece of hair in her pocket, then stood up and walked towards Puck. "Let's go", she said.

"'Bout time", Puck said back. They went back down to the street, got in their car, and headed towards JOCT headquarters, 5 minutes away in downtown Chicago.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the likes and feedback. Just FYI, this story will have a bit more setup, so Quinn and Santana won't meet for a few more chapters, but I hope you enjoy the setup, and thanks for reading the story.

Chapter Three

Quinn was relaxing in her whirlpool bathtub. Her head was back and her eyes were closed. She was drifting, somewhere in that place between sleep and consciousness. In her dreamlike thoughts she was a child, sitting on the beach between her parents. It was a beautiful day, her mother had packed a picnic, and the family was staring out onto the water as they ate. Quinn was smiling and was halfway through her sandwich when two men walked up to her family. They were wearing Italian cut suits. One of them smiled at her, and then pulled out a gun…

Quinn's eyes popped open as she started awake. She looked around quickly for a moment as her hand instinctually went for the 9mm on the toilet seat. She took a deep breath and then looked at the clock in the bathroom. It was close to midnight. She had arrived home over an hour ago from Little Italy. Everything had gone according to plan. She closed her eyes and went back to drifting, and her thoughts took her back to when it all started. She was eighteen and about to graduate from an elite high school in a wealthy Chicago suburb. The tragedy that had befallen her family had occurred a year before. She was living with her aunt and sitting on top of a large inheritance. She could have done anything with her life, and she attended college for two years, meandering through classes, trying to find meaning, but the tragedy that had struck her family made her feel like she needed a purpose, and that soon lead her to the army. She dropped out of college, enlisted in the army and completed boot camp, and then went through basic combat training. Her path took a shot in the arm when an instructor suggested she consider trying out for the Army's Special Forces. Quinn signed on and undertook the grueling six month course to become qualified to don the Green Beret. The training was intense and more comprehensive than she had originally thought it would be. Tracking and surveillance. Hand to hand combat. Advance weapon tactics. Explosives and demolitions. Electronics and circuitry. Sniper training. All through the filters of physical exhaustion and lack of sleep. But, what surprised Quinn the most was that, more than being physical, the training was largely psychological. As the army's experts in unconventional warfare, the Green Berets were trained first and foremost in problem solving. Unlike the enlisted soldiers in the regular army who followed specific sets of orders, Special Forces operators learned from day one that nothing goes according to plan. Working in small teams, they were taught to solve problems on the fly and improvise in the field. Quinn learned to think on her feet and react instantly to any situation. The ability to do that, coupled with the myriad of skills that she had learned, made her deadly in the arena of unconventional warfare.

Quinn opened her eyes. Yes, she thought. The army trained me well. She had been honorably discharged just under two years ago, after spending six years serving in the Green Berets, operating in some of the most unforgiving environments in the world. Since being discharged, she had worked non-stop on her plan, to eliminate the criminal underworld of Chicago and make the city a safer place. She had briefly considered joining the police force, but after serving in the Special Forces, joining an organization mired in procedures and hampered by due process was unfathomable to her. Justice needed to be served, and bad people needed to be punished, laws or no laws. She relaxed for another minute, then stood up and got out of the bathtub. She dried herself off and then put on a pair of jeans and a shirt. She grabbed a glass of water from the Brita filter in the sub-zero fridge in her granite-countertopped kitchen. Her condo was on the second floor of a refurbished building in Chicago's north side Lincoln Park neighborhood. It was a nice condo, and it was paid in full. The only benefit to the tragedy, Quinn thought – I have money and don't need to work a job. I can concentrate on what really matters – my mission. Coincidentally, her condo was located not far from where the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, the most celebrated mob-related slayings in Chicago, had occurred. The coincidence of her condo's location, and the irony that she was waging a one-woman war against organized crime in Chicago, was not lost on Quinn. She took a sip of water and then stepped out onto the balcony. The warm summer nighttime air blew across her face. She looked up and down the street, taking in the sights of Lincoln Avenue after midnight. Even on a Sunday people were out and about. Lincoln Park was one of the hippest areas in Chicago for young people, and crowds of twenty-somethings caroused the bars seven nights a week. Quinn's eyes roamed the street, and her gaze settled on a young couple, maybe early twenties, holding hands, one girl walking slightly in front of the other as they strolled down the street. The girl in the back said something and smiled, and the girl in front laughed and leaned her head back slightly. The girl in back leaned forward, and the couple kissed as they stopped in front of a bar. It would be nice, Quinn thought, to have someone in my life like that. She flashed back to when she had first experienced romantic feelings, dating boys in junior high, then making that discovery in high school and dating girls instead. She had withdrawn from social interaction after the tragedy, but had tried again in college, and she thought about what could have been considered her first and only real girlfriend. That hadn't lasted, she thought with a shake of hr head, and then she thought about her mission, and the whole reason she had joined the army, to acquire the skills she would need to successfully pull it off. Nothing could get in the way of success, she told herself. She couldn't have any distractions. At least not right now. Maybe when she was done, she would open herself up to exploring a more personal part of life - love.

Quinn looked out onto the street for a few more minutes and then finished her glass of water and went inside. She put the glass in the sink and then turned on the TV to WGN news. A reporter was talking about the shootings that had taken place on Taylor Street earlier in the evening. She was dubbing it a possible "all-out mafia versus gang war", and she was interviewing the special agent in charge of the investigation. Quinn stared at the screen. The agent was a stunning Latina, with beautiful hair and a laser-like focus in her dark brown eyes. The graphics across the screen identified her as Special Agent Santana Lopez, Joint Organized Crime Taskforce. Quinn knew about JOCT, the new government agency that coordinated the fight against organized crime between federal and local law enforcement groups. She smiled slightly, thinking that JOCT should put her on their payroll, maybe as an unidentified contractor. Not that she needed the money, but the thought still made her smile. I mean, I'm doing your work for you guys, she mused. Quinn tuned back in as Special Agent Lopez spoke into the reporter's microphone:

"…and our goal is to eliminate organized crime and make Chicago a safer place for everyone, and we won't stop pursuing the criminal elements in this city until we do…"

Quinn took in what the agent said, and slowly nodded her head. I'm in agreement with you, Special Agent Beautiful. But, you're moving too slow. That's why I'm not stopping either. She turned off the TV and headed into her bedroom. As she went to turn off the light, she looked at the photo on her dresser. She was eight years old, and she was with her mother and father. They were sitting on the beach, having a picnic. Quinn looked at the photo and thought what she always thought every time she looked at the photo: I love you guys and miss you, and I promise to make the world a safer place, so nothing like what happened to us will ever happen to anyone else. A tear formed in her eye, and she wiped it away. Then she turned off the light, and crawled into bed and thought. She had been out of the Special Forces for two years now, and had been meticulously planning ever since, researching, tracking, and coming up with ways to eliminate both the Marano family and the Chicago Disciples. Any other criminals she came across would be eliminated as well. And, she was close to being done. Maybe a month or two away, and then maybe, just maybe, she could rest, knowing that she had done what she could. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and fell into a light asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Just a quick disclaimer: This story obviously contains references to the military and law enforcement. I don't know much about either, but the reference are just there to set context and move the story. I apologize for any falsities, and I thank you again for reading.

Chapter 4

The Chicago office of JOCT was located in the same building as the FBI's Chicago office, in the Federal Building on south Dearborn. Santana and Puck walked into JOCT headquarters and headed for Santana's office. They were about to enter when Santana heard a familiar voice.

"Lopez", the voice came from behind her.

Santana closed her eyes and swore under her breath. The voice belonged to William H. Schuester, head of the Chicago office of JOCT and her direct supervisor. Santana got on well with Schuester, but the fact that he was in the office at 11pm on a Sunday night meant that something wasn't good. She turned around and smiled. "Hi boss, how's your Sunday night going?"

"I want to see you in my office. Now."

Santana sighed. "Okey Dokey." She turned to Puck. "Wait in my office. I'll be right there." Puck gave her a "good luck" thumbs up and went into her office. Santana entered Schuester's office and closed the door.

"So, boss, you're here late. Need some privacy while you catch up on Baywatch reruns without the wife around?" Santana quipped. "I mean, Pam Anderson…damn! I'd definitely take a roll in the sand with her-"

"Alright Lopez, cut it out", Schuester said, as he took a seat. "What the hell happened down there tonight?"

Santana dropped the charade and turned serious. "Alberto Costello and Vincenzo Pazzarelli got hit."

"I know who got hit, Lopez. I want to know what happened. Who did it, and why and how."

"I don't know. Hudson thinks it may have been a sniper. Two taps, one to each victim."

"A sniper?" Schuester asked and raised an eyebrow. "Okay…who sent the sniper?"

"We don't know."

"Okay, if this was a sniper, how did he do it?"

"It could have been a she", Lopez said, and Schuester frowned. "And we don't know, but maybe he or she hid on the rooftop of one of the buildings across the street."

"What?" Schuester was incredulous. "Lopez, the building nearest the restaurant that would work for a sniper is a condo building halfway down the fuckin' block. You're telling me that a sniper sat up there, waited for these guys to come out of the restaurant, and then whacked both of them from three hundred yards away with just two shots, while they were sequestered amidst six security guards that are bigger than the offensive line for the Chicago Bears?"

"Uh, we don't know, boss, but that's a possibility."

"Okayyyyyy…and", Schuester rolled on, "When is the last time that either the mob or a street gang hired a sniper?"

"Uh, don't know that either, boss."

Schuester pounded his fist on his desk. "Well, what _do_ you know? I mean, so far, you, Finn, and that FBI boy Puckerman have come up with one theory that sounds like Jason Bourne hit these guys. Please tell me you have something more solid than this."

"Uh, nope. At least not right now." Santana shrugged. She felt bad, not being able to give her boss anything more, but at the same time she was trying not to laugh. Seeing Schuester get upset reminded her of when her teachers in high school would become upset at students throwing pencils around the room or doing anything other than paying attention. For some reason, that had always made her laugh.

Schuester put his head in his hands and sighed. Then he looked up at Santana. "Look, Sylvester called me like twenty minutes ago and just reamed my ass." Susan Sylvester was the Director of JOCT, and Schuester's boss. "The press is having a field day with this. They're dubbing it an all-out gang versus mafia war. They're drawing parallels to the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Sylvester wants this thing wrapped up quickly, and, as much as I want to punch her in the head sometimes, I agree with her on this one. The last thing we need is for this city to panic, thinking that their beloved hometown is turning into an Afghanistan war zone. You know what's gonna transpire if that happens, right? Law enforcement will lose the public's confidence, and then we're gonna have everyday citizens going out, buying guns, and taking matters into their own hands."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it boss. Wrap it up quick, I know."

Schuester stood up. "Lopez – you're the best JOCT agent we have in this city. Get control of this before it spirals into chaos, find the shooter or shooters, and put them behind bars."

Thanks, boss, Santana thought. No pressure there. She looked at Schuester and then said, "No problem, boss. Can I do anything else for you while I'm at it? Maybe get you a cup of coffee? Or maybe a burrito?"

"Out. Get to work," Schuester said and pointed to the door. Santana gave him a mock salute and then left for her office.

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"How was your chat with Shyster?" Puck asked as Santana walked into her office. Puck didn't like Schuester. The feeling was mutual. Good thing those two didn't have to work together much, Santana thought. She looked at Puck and rolled her eyes. "That good, huh?"

"I don't wanna talk about it", Santana said. "He's on edge right now. Sylvester called him and threw the heat on him, so he just threw the heat on me. And now I get to throw the heat on you and Finn."

"Boss yells at the dad, dad yells at his kid, kid kicks the dog. I get it", Puck said.

Santana looked at Puck. "Look, I'm tired, so let's just review what we know, and then I'm going home for the night."

"Okay", Puck said. "So, if we're sticking with the lone sniper theory, which, the more I think about it, the more plausible it seems…well, then, this person could be anyone."

"No", Santana said. "Not just anyone. First and foremost, this person is well trained. Think about it: the sniper was three hundred yards away, shooting at night time. First off, you need a certain kind of weapon to make that kind of shot, and not many people know how to use that kind of a weapon. Secondly, you need serious skills to make that shot. He or she had maybe five seconds to get two shots off, before their targets were in the cars, which, by the way, I'm sure are bullet proof. Plus, the targets were surrounded by bodyguards the size of houses."

"Yeah, I got all that", Puck said.

"Also, think about it – the sniper wasn't there by chance tonight. He or she knew that Costello and Pazzarelli were going to be there tonight, eating dinner at Salvatore's. The sniper probably knew that those two dined there every Sunday night. The only way that the sniper would have known that was through tracking and surveillance. That kind of tracking and surveillance would have taken at least a few months to establish that pattern. Also, this sniper knew the best building to set up on. In addition, this sniper would have needed to know who his victims were. Costello and Pazzarelli, while known in law enforcement and crime circles, aren't exactly household names. If we go with the fact that this sniper isn't related to either the mafia or a gang, then that means that whoever this is knows how to do some research, maybe even crack a law enforcement database, which suggests that he or she knows a thing or two about computers."

"Right. Okay", Puck agreed. "So, where are you going with this?"

Santana thought for a moment and then looked at Puck. "Where I'm going with this is that…this person is a pro. And there's really only one place you learn to execute like that, and that's in the military. If I were to guess, our sniper is either army or marines. Those are the two branches that produce the best snipers. And", Santana said while digging in her pocket, "I'm betting it's the army. More specifically, Army Special Forces."

"What makes you say that?" Puck asked.

"Because I found this", Santana said, and pulled out the hair that she had found on the rooftop.

"What the hell is that?" Puck asked.

"It's a hair. A long hair, and a fine hair, so it's probably from a woman."

"So?"

"So, I found it on the rooftop, right near the edge. It's possible the sniper had been lying there. Also, in case you don't know, the army is the only branch that currently allows women to serve in special units. Both the Rangers and the Special Forces started letting women join around ten years ago. The Navy SEALs, Air Force Pararescue and Marine Recon haven't adopted the policy yet, which I think is dumb, but that's beside the point. Also, within the army, snipers usually serve in the Special Forces, not the Rangers. The Rangers fight more direct action, close quarter combat."

"Okay, so, we have an army, or maybe an ex-army Special Forces sniper, who knows how to track targets, perform surveillance, work a computer, and make a kill shot from three hundred yards away. The question I have is – who and why? I mean, if this person is not from another mafia family, and is not gang-affiliated, then who is this person, and why are they doing this?"

Santana looked at Puck. "I don't know. I honestly have no clue. But", she said, as she stood up and yawned, "we are gonna find out."

"Alrighty", Puck said, as he got up from his chair. "Let's call it a night." The two of them walked out of the building together and got into their respective cars.

"See you tomorrow morning", Puck said. "I'll come by around 9, and we can go over next steps."

"Sounds good", Santana said. She got into her car and drove home.

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Santana arrived home ten minutes later at her apartment in the Pilsen neighborhood, just south of downtown Chicago. She took off her jacket and shoes and then went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer. She was bone-tired and needed some sleep, but she was too wound up to hit the sack just yet, so she popped the top, took a swig, and then wandered into the living room. She thought about turning on the TV, but as she reached for the remote, he eye fell on the photo of her mother and father. Her mother lived a mile away, just down Halsted Street. Santana looked at her father and a tear formed in her eye as she thought about the tragedy that had befallen her family. It was a senseless tragedy, caused by someone doing something stupid, not following the law. Laws need to be followed, Santana thought. Laws need to be followed, or bad things happen, so she had committed her life to enforcing the law. I miss you, Papa, she thought. She stared at the photo for another moment, and then she went out onto her balcony. Warm summer air blew across her face. She looked up and down Halsted, and her eyes settled on a young couple coming out of a bar. They were holding hands and laughing. The girl on the left leaned sideways and kissed the girl on the right, and the girl on the right giggled and nuzzled her head into the girl on the left. It must be nice, Santana thought, to have someone in your life like that. She wondered if she could balance a relationship and a career in law enforcement, with its crazy hours. It may be possible, she thought. It would just have to be with someone really understanding, who believed in what Santana was doing. She sighed, finished her beer, and went back inside. She laid down in her bed and her thoughts turned to the case as she drifted asleep. Who was this mystery shooter? What had brought him or her in? How had she pulled this off? And why was it that, more and more, I'm starting to get the gut feeling the shooter is a woman? Too much to comprehend right now, Santana thought. Right now, I just need some sleep. She let her thoughts wander for a few more minutes and then drifted into dreamland.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Quinn was in her apartment, getting ready for tonight. Five days had passed since she had taken out the mafia guys outside of Salvatore's, and tonight, she was going out again. She laughed to herself as she thought about how 'getting ready' meant something so much different for her than it probably did for every other woman who was getting ready in her building right now. She had assembled and dismantled her rifle twice in the last hour, checking every last piece, then packed it in her over-the-shoulder rifle bag, along with an extra shirt, pink and sleeveless, and a pair of clubwear heels. She had donned her all-black tactical outfit and stuffed the 9MM in a holster at her side. Her tactical knife went into a sheath near her right ankle. She sat down at her computer desk. Two more hours, then I leave. A thought crossed her mind, and she fired up her laptop. It was a thought that had crossed her mind many times in the last week: Special Agent Santana Lopez. Special Agent Beautiful. She found the JOCT website, then brought up a separate screen, entered a bunch of code, and she was in.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Santana and Puck were sitting in Santana's office when Finn walked in. "What do you know, guys?" he asked as he took a seat. It was 10pm. Another late night.

"A couple things", Santana said. She had filled Finn in on her thoughts about the Salvatore's incident being carried out by an ex-Army Special Forces sniper, and Finn agreed. She also told him about the hair she had found. In addition, she had one other thing to show both Finn and Puck. "Come on, follow me." She lead Finn and Puck down the hallway and into the JOCT crime labs. They went first to database room. A young tech named Sam Evans was manning the station.

"So, we ran the hair follicle I found, and we came up with this", Santana said. She motioned to Sam, and he pulled up the screen. "As you can see, there's a match. But, as you can also see, the match is classified."

Finn looked at the screen and then looked at Santana and Puck. "What the hell is this? Classified?"

"It means that the identity of the person to whom this hair sample belongs is not in any regular civilian database – FBI, DEA, DMV, local law enforcement. None of them", Puck said.

"Which means, the shooter may be military", Santana said. "I'd love to check the army databases, but we'd have a hell of a time getting clearance for that, especially to special ops personnel."

"Okay, so what else do you have?"

"We're going to the tape room. Thanks, Sam", Santana said. Sam nodded, and Santana lead Puck and Finn down another hallway to another lab. This one had monitors all over the wall. A young man in a wheelchair was manning the station.

"So", Santana started. "I got to thinking about the surveillance for the Salvatore's hit. Now, it's possible that all of the surveillance by the sniper was done outside of the restaurant, but a really good sniper would have wanted to take a look inside. So, going off the premise that our shooter knew that her victims dined at Salvatore's every Sunday, I theorized that she may have actually wanted to case the joint herself."

"Wait", Puck said, "How do you know it's a she?"

"I'm getting to that. Just pay attention. Now, there are street light cameras to catch speeders and red light runners at the stoplight just west of Salvatore's. So, I asked Artie here to tap into the camera facing Salvatore's and pull all off the footage between 6-11pm for every Sunday evening for the last three months. Let me tell you - it's been a lot of fun going through it all, but we came up with this." Santana had Artie hit play on one of the monitors. The view street light camera provided a clear view of the front of Salvatore's. "This is the Sunday before the hit. Look. Timestamp is 6:42. And there she is", Santana said. Finn and Puck looked as an attractive blonde in a nice evening dress walked into frame from the far side of the camera. As she came into view, she turned her head slightly to the side, away from the camera. She walked up to the restaurant and entered the front door. "That's our unsub", Santana said. Unknown Subject.

"Hot blonde", Puck said. "So?"

"So, keep looking." Artie scrolled through the footage at high speed until they got to 6:59pm. He slowed it down, and right at 7pm, two Mercedes Sedans pulled up, and Costello and Pazzarelli exited along with six of their bodyguards.

"So, the woman walks into the restaurant, and then 18 minutes later, the Italian crew walks in. So?" Puck remained skeptical.

"Okay – watch", Santana said. She had Artie fast forward the tape to 9:41. The Mercedes Sedans arrived at the front of the restaurant. At 9:42, the Italian crew exited the restaurant and got into the cars and drove off. At 9:48, the woman emerged from the restaurant, alone. As she did, she again turned her head slightly away from the camera and then walked away, out of frame.

"So, hot blonde comes into restaurant. She's in there for two plus hours and then leaves", Puck looked at Santana. "So?" he said again for the third time.

"So this", Santana said. "This woman with blonde hair, the same color hair I found on the rooftop, comes to the restaurant, dressed up for dinner. As she comes into frame of the speeding/red light camera, she deliberately turns her head, almost like she is worried about a camera catching her image. Normal people out for dinner wouldn't do that. She enters the restaurant at 6:42. The Italians enter right at 7. Between the time she enters and the time the Italians show up, only four other people show up – two sets of couples. Now, this woman is in there for almost three hours. Since she didn't show up with anyone, and no one showed up to meet her, she's dining alone. Who the hell dines alone in a restaurant for three hours? Then, the Italians leave, and then she leaves just a few minutes later. Alone. If she had met someone there for dinner, they would have left together, right? As she leaves, she is careful not to look in the direction of the street camera. Then she walks the other way."

"Okay", Finn chimed in. "So, what's the bottom line, Lopez?"

Santana sighed. "The bottom line is that this woman is the shooter. She ate dinner in a restaurant alone for almost three hours, so she could case the joint and get a feel for her targets and their coverage. She showed up just before they arrived, and she left right after they departed. She knew there was a camera at the intersection near the restaurant, and she took care to avoid having it capture her face." She looked at Puck, who looked more convinced than he did when he walked in, but still dubious. "I'm telling you guys, it's her. I don't know how I know, but I do."

"Okay, so, if this won a is the shooter, than what do we do next?" Finn asked.

"I don't know", Santana said. "I mean, we could try to subpoena army personnel records, but the army probably won't play nice. They take care of their own, especially their special ops personnel."

"Well, shit. We've got a hot blonde with a killer body and a partial face print in a city of ten million people", Puck said. "I don't know where to begin."

The three of them were silent for a moment, and then Finn's cell rang. He put it to his ear. "Hudson", he said. He listened for a moment and then looked up at Santana. "Where at?" He paused for another moment. "Alright, we're on our way."

"What's going on?" Santana asked.

"Three Disciples just got whacked outside of Mother's nightclub on Division near Rush." Finn looked at Santana and Puck. "They all took single shots to the head."

"Shit", Santana said. She looked at her watch. It was 10:37pm. "Let's go." The three of them bolted out of the building, jumped in Finn's car and sped off.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Santana, Puck, and Finn pulled up five minutes later. The local police had already cordoned off the area. Finn shook hands with the sergeant in charge and introduced Santana and Puck. "What do we got, Sarge?" Finn started.

"Ramon Cruz, Jason Chen, and DeShawn Williams", the sergeant said. "All three of them shot once in the head as they exited the club."

"Yup, I know all three of them. Well, knew all three of them", Finn said. They were all high ranking members of the Chicago Disciples. Finn looked around. Busy area. Bars on both sides of the street. He turned to Santana and Puck. "Thoughts, guys?"

"One shots to the head - it's looks like it may be the same shooter", Santana said. "What else do you know?" A large crowd had started to gather, and the press was already on the scene.

The sergeant looked at Santana. "We spoke to the club manager and the doorman. This club is a regular Disciple hangout. These guys were in here every week."

"Let me guess. Same night? This night? Every week?" Santana asked.

"Yep, that's right", the sergeant confirmed.

Christ, Santana thought. The shooter had stalked and eliminated them, and then vanished into thin air. It was like chasing a ghost. She looked across the street. As with Taylor Street, this section of Division Street was lined with bars and restaurants in mostly two flat buildings. Santana looked further down the block in each direction. She spotted a bank about half a block west. The top of the building was three stories tall. Division was more crowded than Taylor, and it would have been a tough shot, especially with other people around besides your targets, but a pro could have done it. She looked at Finn, and he seemed to be guessing her thoughts.

"You think the shooter might have perched there?" Finn asked and pointed to the top of the bank building.

"Maybe. I'm going to go check it out. I'll be back in a few minutes." Santana took off for the building while Finn and Puck continued to work the club personnel and pedestrian witnesses. She went around back and found the fire escape, then climbed up it three floors and ended up on the roof. She walked to the ledge and peered over, half a block down and across the street to the club. It was pretty much the same shot as the one at Salvatore's. Santana took out her flashlight and shined it on the ground. She walked the perimeter of the roof and was about to start looking at the middle of the roof when she froze. There, on the ground, near the ledge, was another piece of hair. She picked it up and held it up to the light. It was the same color as the hair she had found on the rooftop near Salvatore's. A chill went through her body and she stuffed the hair into her pocket and then quickly withdrew her gun. She dropped into a shooter's stance and pivoted a quick 360. Nothing. She slowed her breathing and holstered her gun, then went down and rejoined Finn and Puck.

"Find anything?" Finn said.

"Nope, nothing", Santana lied.

"Well, I've got about all I'm gonna get down here." Finn said. "C'mon – I'll drop you guys back off at the Fed building." The three of them got in Finn's car and drove back downtown.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

After she had shot the three Disciples, Quinn had hightailed it down from the bank building. She had landed in an alley behind the bank. She changed her shoes and was changing her top when a group of drunk girls stumbled up behind her. She was half changed, and the girls saw her, and their jaws dropped. Before they could say anything, Quinn put on her drunk voice and said, "Oh my Gawd, I'm sooooo drunk, and I like totally spilled a drink all over my shirt." She looked at the drunk girls as she finished pulling her pink shirt on, and smiled the 'I'm-so-drunk-I-spilled-my-drink" smile. The girls, now making sense of what happened, empathized with her, saying things like, "Oh don't worry girl, we've all done it", and then walked on. Quinn waited for them to pass, then ducked down the sidestreet where she had parked her car and put her rifle bag in the trunk. Then, standing at her car, she had a thought. She really should get out of here right now. What she was going to do next was risky. But, for all of her training and discipline, she just couldn't help it. She grabbed her purse, shut her trunk, and then headed back to the street. She stood across from the bank and a couple stores down towards the club. She took out her cellphone and pretended to talk on it, giggling every few minutes to make the conversation look real. She hung up her phone, lit a cigarette, and was halfway through it, when she saw the first cop cars and ambulance pull up. A minute later, she saw the Ford Sedan screech to a halt, and out stepped Special Agent Beautiful and her two male oafs. She stood, watching her talk with the cops and with her oafs, then Quinn followed her with her eyes as she went to the bank building and climbed to the top. She lit another cigarette and pulled out her phone again, pretending to text, but all the while trying to watch Special Agent Beautiful as closely as she could. She really was beautiful, Quinn thought. And more than that, there was something else. She was a good person. A moral person. When Quinn had heard Special Agent Beautiful talk in the interview about wanting to rid Chicago of violent crime, she really believed it, and she really had felt the connection. That's what I want too, Quinn had thought. She stole a glance up and watched as Special Agent Beautiful appeared to be searching the rooftop with her flashlight, then froze when she discovered what Quinn assumed to be the piece of hair that she had left for her to find. Leaving hair at Salvatore's had been an accident, but after coming home and seeing the hair caught in her ponytail band, she knew that she had dropped hair on the rooftop. Not to worry, she thought to herself, since it was unlikely that any civilian organization would be able to trace that to her, but when she saw Special Agent Beautiful later that night on TV, a thought had occurred to her. It was crazy, but for some reason tonight, she wanted to leave Special Agent Beautiful a clue to her identity. It was almost like she wanted Special Agent Beautiful to find her, to discover her, to seek her out and join forces with her. She had a quick fantasy about the two of them joining forces to rid the world of criminals, falling in love in the process. She snapped back to the present as she heard Special Agent Beautiful come back from the bank building and approach her oafs. She looked at the three of them talking. None of them noticed her, standing a hundred feet away, with the rest of the crowd that had gathered. Then, she heard the paler oaf say, "C'mon – I'll drop you guys back off at the Fed building." She saw the three of them get in their car and drive off. Time to go, she thought. She waited for their car to turn a corner, then hustled to her car down the block. She got in, threw on a black jacket over her pink shirt, fired up the engine, and headed for the Federal Building.


	6. Chapter 6

Just and FYI - Quinn and Santana are meeting soon. Very soon.

Chapter 6

Finn dropped Santana and Puck off at the Federal building. Puck headed to the FBI office, and Santana headed back to JOCT headquarters. She went immediately to the database room and found Sam, who was still pouring through data.

"Sam", she said as she approached.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I need you to run a scan on this real quick." Santana handed Sam the hair she had found on top of the bank building. "I need to know if this belongs to the same person as the hair I gave you last week."

"Alright, can you give me thirty minutes?" Sam asked.

"Sure can. Thanks."

Sam nodded and Santana went down to the tape room. Artie was still there.

"Double A", Santana said, as she addressed Artie Abrams by her nickname for him.

"Hey, Lopez, back to view more footage?"

"Actually, yes. I need to look at something. Pull up the west facing traffic camera at the Rush and Division intersection. I need all of the video for a week ago from today, from 9-11pm."

"Okay…" Artie said, as he went to work. "Here…we…go." He pushed a button and the feed came up on a monitor.

"Okay, scroll faster. What I'm looking for is the blonde that was in the footage from Taylor Street. I want to see if she scoped out this nightclub last week, a week ago from tonight."

"Gotcha." Artie went to work scrolling through footage. "This may take a bit", he said. You want a cup of coffee?"

"Uh, sure", Santana said. She got up out of her seat and went to a table on the other side of the room. She poured herself a cup and was taking her first sip, when Artie called her back. "Lopez – I think I got something here". Santana took a seat next to Artie and he pointed at the screen. "Take a look." Artie let it play, and Santana watched as the three recently deceased Disciples and their entourage of hoodlums entered the club. Two minutes later, an attractive blonde with a tight black dress and clubbing heels entered the frame, facing away from camera. Santana noticed when the blonde turned towards camera to hand the bouncer her ID, she purposely looked down and away from camera, and a chill ran down Santana's spine. Artie looked at Santana. "Thoughts?"

"Ummm…might be her, but tough to say. Let's keep playing. Let's get to the point when the Disciples exit the club." Artie nodded his head and scrolled through the footage. He came up to 10:30pm, and the three Disciples and their entourage exited the club. Two minutes later, the blonde came out.

"Freeze", Santana said. "Back up…just a bit…stop." Santana looked at the image on the screen. The blonde was facing camera. Not looking right at it, but close enough to get a clear shot of her face. "Artie – can you push in and enhance this image?" Santana asked. Artie did so, and Santana stared at the screen. The woman looked to be in her late twenties. Her long blonde hair was parted to the left. In the streetlights outside the club, it had a golden tinge to it. The woman had green eyes and full lips. Santana stared at the image. She's beautiful, Santana thought.

"Do you want a printout of this?" Artie asked. When Santana didn't respond, Artie said, "Lopez?"

"Huh? Oh - no, no, I'm good, thanks." It's not like I'm going to forget that face, Santana thought. She thanked Artie and then went back to Sam. She came in just as Sam was calibrating a match. "What do you have, Sam?"

"Just…one…more…moment…there!" Sam said. He pulled up the results and put them side by side.

Santana looked at the screen. "Are you sure?" she asked Sam.

"Yes. I'm sure", Sam said. "Computer says we have a match. The hair you found last week and the hair you found tonight belong to the same person."

Santana exhaled slowly. She thanked Sam, and then left the building and got into her car. She drove towards home and was about to park in her garage when she had a sudden urge to get a beer at a bar. She took a sharp right and headed to a bar she liked about half a mile from her house. She was thinking hard about what she had just been told and seen, and she was too lost in thought to notice that a black Lexus had followed her from the Federal building and had just made the same sharp right turn.


	7. Chapter 7

This may be the last chapter for a day or two. I'm starting to get busy with work. Thanks for reading, and I hope you are enjoying the story.

Chapter 7

Santana was nursing a beer at Marangos Pub. There were about twenty other patrons in the small bar. She was sitting in her usual spot towards the far end of the bar, drinking a beer and thinking about the case. The blonde – it had to be her. She's beautiful. Wait – stay on track, Santana thought to herself. Don't get distracted. The blonde - it had to be her. She had been at both crime scenes. Santana knew because of the hair and the traffic cameras. Of course, it could have been coincidence that a blonde woman with hair the same color that Santana had found at both locations happened to be at both locations at the exact time the targets were there, and exactly a week before they were killed, but Santana doubted it. She took another sip of her beer and continued thinking. Finn was right. This woman was a pro. The way she carried herself, the way she avoided looking at the traffic cameras, the way she scoped out the areas, arrived slightly earlier than her targets, and then leaving just after they left. The way she waited patiently to take her shots. These were all signs of a professional. And, of course, the way she made one-shot kills at three hundred yards. That was pretty indicative of being a professional, too. She's beautiful, Santana thought again. C'mon, Lopez, she thought to herself again. Stay focused. As Santana continued to think about the case, she wondered who this woman was, and why she was killing criminals. And not just any criminals. These were apex criminals in the Chicago crime underworld. To not be affiliated with any organization yet be taking on criminals of this stature - this woman must have a serious grudge, or something, Santana thought. Maybe it's personal with her. She continued thinking, and a strange musing entered her head. If I can find her, maybe I'll put her on the payroll, Santana mused. She's kind of doing our work for us. I mean, if I could pull the trigger on these criminals, I would, too. But, as soon as she thought about that, another thought entered her head: we've got a process to follow, and we need to follow it. If we don't, and we start taking matters into our own hands and pulling the trigger whenever we feel like it, we're no better than the criminals we go after. But still, Santana thought, it would be nice to not be so mired in bureaucracy. She thought about the blonde mystery woman who seemed to be taking out crime lords on her own accord, and in a small way, Santana envied her. I understand rules and laws, she thought to herself, but still, it would be nice to have the freedom to just take care of business sometimes. And, she's beautiful, Santana thought for the third time. Christ, Lopez – can't you stay focused for just one minute? What is it about this woman that has me so distracted right now? Santana finished her beer and set down the bottle. She was just about to order another one, when the bartender came over and put one down right in front of her.

"I didn't order this, Dave", Santana said.

"No. She ordered it for you", Dave said. He pointed to the other end of the bar. He and Santana looked over and saw no one there. "Well, there _was_ someone there like a minute ago". Dave shrugged and went back to pouring drinks, and Santana was about to shrug it off when her eye caught a movement past the other end of the bar. She looked up and froze. There was the blonde. She was standing right near the front door, smiling and waving at her. Santana sat and stared for a moment, her thoughts swirling. The blonde – is that really her, or is my mind playing tricks on me? I've worked 100 hours this week, so maybe I'm just tired. But, if it really is her, what do I do? Do I draw my weapon? I'm sure she's carrying right now. If I draw my weapon, will she draw hers and fire? I know she's a good shot. Will she get me? Will she shoot everyone else in the bar? There are innocent people in here, and I don't want anyone to get hurt.

Santana stared for a moment longer and then started to get up. The blonde, still smiling, put up a warning finger. Santana reached for her gun, and the blonde waved her finger back and forth. Then, in one fluid motion, Santana drew her gun and yelled "Freeze!" The bar went silent. "Everybody down", Santana screamed. Patrons hit the deck, and the woman twiddled her fingers at Santana and ran out of the bar. Santana ran towards the front door, screaming at Dave to call the cops, then kicked the front door open and ran out. She scanned the street and saw a shadow to the left, halfway down the block. It was the blonde. She smiled and waved to Santana, then turned the corner onto a side street. Santana charged down the block after her, then turned the corner hard. As she did, she ran right into a kick to the ribs, professionally delivered as well as any kick boxer could have done. Santana went down hard but kept a hold of her gun. She rolled over onto her back and stared into the face of the blonde, who was standing over her and smiling.

"Freeze!" Santana yelled, training her gun on the blonde.

The blonde laughed and put her hands up. "Uh, okay. I'm frozen."

Santana looked at her. Her long blonde hair was down and parted to the left. She was wearing a stylish black leather jacket, a pink shirt, black pants, and black clubbing shoes. Pink shirt…pink shirt… "Hey! Santana exclaimed. "You were at Rush and Division tonight!"

"I was?" the blonde asked, in mock surprise.

"Yes! I saw you. You were wearing that pink shirt. You were standing about a hundred feet away from me and my partners. You were smoking a cigarette and talking on your cell phone."

"Oh my God - that _was_ me", the woman said in mock surprise again. She laughed again and then extended her hand down to help Santana up. Santana didn't take it. She stood up on her own and trained the gun on the blonde, who laughed slightly and raised her hands again. "Look, I'm sorry about the kick", the blonde said. "I really didn't think you would fall for that, though. But still, you don't have to be a bad sport. You could have taken my hand when I offered to help you up." When Santana didn't say anything, the blonde continued in a jovial tone. "Look, if I wanted to kill you, I would have already done it already." Santana backed up three feet and kept her gun trained on the blonde. The blonde kept her hands up and said, "My name is Quinn, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Quinn. You're under arrest." Santana said.

"Really?" Quinn said and raised her eyebrows. "That's how it's gonna go? 'You're under arrest'" she said, repeating Santana.

"I know it's you", Santana said.

"You know _what_ is me?" Quinn asked.

"I know you're the one who killed the two Italian mobsters last week, and also the three Disciples tonight."

"Hmmm. Interesting. How do you know that?"

"Because I saw you on traffic cameras at both places the weeks before the victims were killed."

"Wait – you saw me on traffic cameras at both places the weeks _before _the victims were killed, and that means that it's me that killed these people?"

"We also found hair at each crime scene. The hair at both crime scenes was the same. Blonde hair, with a golden tinge to it."

"Oooh. Blonde hair with gold in it. Must be me, then", Quinn said. She stuck out her wrists to indicate that she was ready to be handcuffed. "Blonde girl ate at a restaurant and went to a club. You better take me in."

"I didn't mention a restaurant or a club."

"I watch the news," Quinn paused and then said, "Special Agent Santana Lopez of the Joint Organized Crime Taskforce."

"Give up the charade, Blondie. Like I said, I know it's you." Santana said in a voice full of law enforcement authority.

"Yup, it was me. I did it. Or actually, it was Professor Plum, in the dining room, with a candlestick". Santana didn't budge, so Quinn smiled and said, "C'mon - that was funny." Santana still didn't budge, so Quinn dropped her smile and said, "So, let me get this straight. You found blonde hair at both crime scenes. You saw me, via traffic cams, at both crime scenes, which, by the way happen to be a popular restaurant and an even more popular club. So, then it has to be me? That's what you're going with?"

Santana kept her gun trained on Quinn. "You don't seem very frazzled right now."

"Should I be?"

"Most people accused of a crime by a federal agent would be freaking out right about now."

"We'll, let's just say I've been through a lot worse than being accused of a crime."

Santana kept her gun trained on Quinn. Quinn took a step closer, and as she did, she and Santana heard the sounds of sirens approaching. Santana looked sideways in the direction of the sirens and then said, "I'm taking you in."

"Really?" Quinn said again, bemused.

"Yeah, really. Do you heat those sirens? They're coming for you. As soon as they get here, you're cooked."

Quinn thought for a second, and then said, "Okay. So, let's say you take me in. What are you going to do? Lean on me? Interrogate me? Sweat me out? What do you think is going to happen? That I'm going to confess to being some specially trained assassin, maybe, say, ex-Army Special Forces?" Quinn smiled. Santana kept her gun trained on Quinn and looked over in the direction of the sirens again, so Quinn continued. "Or, more likely, what will probably happen is that you will take me in, and you will find that I am your standard late twenties-something woman who has been living off of an inheritance that she got when her parents tragically died, and who works part time as a freelance graphic designer and computer consultant.

"We have your hair." Santana reminded her.

"Really? You have _my_ hair? Am I the only blonde in this city of say, ten million people?"

"I'm taking you in", Santana said again. "We'll test it."

"You could", Quinn said. "Or, I have another idea. You let me walk away right now, and I will contact you again. Soon. When we meet again, I will tell you everything I know." Santana's eyes widened, and Quinn said, "Well, maybe not _everything_, but a lot more than you'll get if you take me in right now."

Santana eyed her suspiciously. "If I let you go, how do I know you're going to contact me?"

Quinn smiled. "Because, if we go that route, we can set a date right now. How about…tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night?" Santana asked.

"Tomorrow night", Quinn confirmed. "And…I do mean...a date." Santana squinted her eyes, and Quinn winked at her. "Do you know where Le Chez is? On Western and Lawrence?"

"I've heard of it", Santana said. Le Chez was an expensive French restaurant in the posh Lincoln Square neighborhood on the northwest side of Chicago. It was rumored to be one of the best restaurants in the city, and proper dress was required.

"Well, let's say 8pm there. Sound good? By the way, I'm paying, since I asked you out", Quinn said and smiled. Santana didn't answer. She still had her gun trained on Quinn, so Quinn said, "I think those sirens are getting closer. You'd better let me know now, Special Agent Beautiful."

Santana's eyes bugged out of her head in disbelief. "What did you just call me?"

"You heard me", Quinn said and smiled. "So, what's it gonna be, beautiful? A dinner date for both of us at a nice restaurant with a beautiful woman sitting across the table, or a long and tedious night in a drab room downtown in the Federal Building with a bunch of testosterone-laden oafs around?" Santana blinked but didn't budge, so Quinn rolled on. "Think about it - if I am who you think I am, an ex-Army Special Forces-trained assassin, do you really think you're going to get me to crack?"

Santana held her position for a moment and then lowered her gun.

Quinn smiled at her. She took two steps away and then stopped and turned back. "You want me to pick you up? We can make it like a real date."

Santana looked at her, incredulous. "Really, Quinn?"

"Why not?" Quinn asked. She paused for a moment and then asked Santana, "When's the last time you were even on a date?"

"W-w-what?" Santana stammered. "W-w-wait, that's none of your business."

"Oooh", Quinn said and smiled slightly. "I didn't mean to touch a nerve."

Santana stared at her for a moment, flustered, and then said, "Whatever. You can't pick me up. You' don't even know where I live".

"1725 South Halsted Street, Apartment 2?" Quinn asked and smiled slightly.

"Wait – h-h-how do you know that?"

Quinn cocked her head. The sirens had stopped, and she could see flashing lights reflecting off the windows of the corner store. "Well, I should be going. How's this – for our first date, tomorrow, I'll just meet you there. I can pick you up for the next one." She looked at Santana, who was staring at her, incredulous. Quinn smiled at her and then took a step towards her. Santana instinctually raised her gun, but as she did, Quinn reached out, lightning quick, grabbed it, yanked it out of Santana's hand, and in one smooth move ejected the magazine and ejected the round in the chamber, catching it as it fell. She held the magazine and the round in her left hand, then twirled the gun around in her right hand, took another step forward, and handed Santana back her gun, grip-first, with no bullets. Santana stood there, mouth open in amazement, and as she took her gun back, Quinn leaned in and planted a kiss on Santana's open mouth. They stood there, pressed together for a moment, and then Quinn pulled back. Santana stood there, speechless. Quinn smiled slightly, and then said softly, "Goodnight, Special Agent Beautiful. See you tomorrow at 8. Dress nice." She turned and walked about five feet and then turned back. Santana was still staring at her in disbelief. Quinn smiled at Santana, and then threw her the magazine and the round that had been in the chamber. Then she winked at Santana, blew her a kiss, and disappeared into the darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for all of the feedback. Just some thoughts from me:

I've had a couple people tell me that, by making Santana fall off her game, it seems like I'm saying that the army is better than the federal government, since Quinn seems to be more accomplished than Santana. FYI I've never been associated with either the army or the federal government, so I have no bias towards either. It is true that Santana fell off her game a bit, but that happens. Also, it doesn't mean she's an amateur. It may happen to Quinn as well, perhaps in a later chapter. Love and attraction can do funny things. Along those lines, I know that, within Quinntana, there are those who like Quinn more, and those who like Santana more. In my previous stories, I leaned towards misfortune befalling one or the other more, but in this story I am trying to make things more even, so it doesn't seem like either one is catching the shaft more than the other.

As far as lengths of chapter go, I don't structure them around device. I make chapters as long as I feel they need to be for what makes sense for the flow of the story. Ditto with paragraphs. But, given the requests, I will try to accommodate if I can, without breaking up the flow of the story.

I appreciate all feedback. Even the feedback that's critical, as long as it's constructive. Critical but constructive feedback serves as a nice check for me, since it is very possible for me to start losing focus after staring at words for so long (sometimes it all seems to blend together). Having said that, I will also say this: I haven't mapped out this story as much as I had mapped out my other stories (although I do have a pretty decent idea of where it should go), so feel free to send suggestions. I can't promise that I will incorporate all of them, but I will read them all, and I will incorporate what I think works best. In fact, I have incorporated some of the suggestions already, so thank you.

On a related note, one thing I need to mention: For every story I've written, I get some anonymous reviews that say "Do yourself a favor and don't update" (maybe it's the same reader for all stories). To that reader – do _yourself_ a favor and read something else. There are plenty of stories on FF. Also, in general, regarding reviews, for anyone who writes an anonymous review, since I can't respond to it personally to open up a dialog, I may post your review, or I may not. Bottom line - if you'd like me to consider and/or post your feedback, please keep it constructive.

I realize this story may not be 100% realistic, but if you've read my stories before, you know that I love Hollywood. If you want realism, please read the news (however real that is these days).

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you are enjoying the story.

Chapter 8

Giuseppi Marano, ruling patriarch of the Marano crime family, sat in the parlor of his 10,000 square foot house in the southwest end of Little Italy. With him were Frankie Marano, his son, and Carmine Lippenzo, the new underboss of the Marano family. The atmosphere was tense, and Giuseppi was worried.

"Who the fuck did this?" Giuseppi asked both Carmine and Frankie in his gravelly voice.

"I don't know, Papa", Frankie said.

"My guess? Maybe the Marretti's", Carmine offered. "You know there's been unrest with some of them ever since we folded their family into ours."

"No, it's not them. Antonio Marretti gave me his word", Giuseppi said.

"Maybe the Disciples, Papa?" Frankie asked.

"No", Giuseppi said again. "It's not them. They would have waited in vans on the street, twenty of 'em, and then jumped out and sprayed the whole fuckin' building with bullets. This was a solo shooter. Acting alone."

"Well, Papa, I thought mayb-" Frankie started, but Giuseppi cut him off.

"I said it's not them. But, we do need to talk to them."

"What for?" Carmine asked.

"Because they got hit, too. Last night. Same style – a solo gunman, acting alone. Took out three of their high-ranking guys with three shots." Guiseppi looked at Carmine. "I wanna know if they know anything." Then he stared hard at both Carmine and his son. "Someone's after us. All of us. And if we don't figure this thing out soon, we'll all be fuckin' dead. Capiche?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Kody Mitchell walked into the room and slammed the door shut. Mitchell, who resembled an NFL linebacker, was the reigning king of the Chicago Disciples. He had consolidated most of Chicago's street gangs under his umbrella, and he was, in his words, the 'hawdest muthafukka around in this town'. At thirty-three years old, he was a living legend and a senior citizen in the Chicago gang world, having survived more than a quarter century of fist fights, knifings and drive-by shootings. Now, he had called a meeting to discuss the slayings of Ramon Cruz, Jason Chen, and DeShawn Williams that had taken place last night at Mother's. He and his remaining top lieutenants – Dominik Lancaster, Felipe Sosa and Terrell Jackson – were sitting in a private room in Club 361, a regular Disciple hangout on the south side of Chicago. The atmosphere was tense, and Mitchell was nervous.

"So, what the fuck happened last night? Kody asked in his menacing baritone voice.

"I don't know, man", Dominik said.

"My guess? Maybe the Vice Lords", Felipe offered. "You know they're the one gang we haven't been able to fold into our ranks."

"No, it's not them", Kody said. "They're too far up north. No way they would have come all the way down to Rush and Division to start shit."

"Maybe the Maranos?" Terrell asked.

"Maybe", Kody, "but I don't think so. Costello and Pazzarelli got hit the same way last week. Same M.O. – lone gunman, one kill shot per guy. I don't think this is them."

The room was silent for a minute, then Dominik asked, "So, what's the plan?"

Kody thought for a minute, then said, "We need to talk to the Maranos."

"Why the fuck do we want to talk to them?" Terrell asked.

"Because they got hit, too", Kody said. "I wanna know if they know anything." He stared hard at his lieutenants. "Some motherfucker is after us. All of us. And if we don't figure this thing out soon, we'll all be fuckin' wasted." He looked at Felipe and said, "Set up a meeting."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Santana pulled into the Lez Chez parking lot a little before 8pm. She turned off the engine and sat in her car for a minute. She was as nervous as a schoolgirl on a first date. There were just so many levels of unexplainable-ness and shouldn't-be-doing-this going on here. But, despite all of that, she just hadn't been able to turn down the invite. After she got home last night, she had laid in bed for two hours, her mind spinning as she thought about her encounter with Quinn, especially their kiss. She had woken up this morning and had added an extra three miles onto her run, trying to work off some nervous energy. She had taken a long shower at 5pm, and then had spent the next two hours trying on outfits. She had settled on a stylish burgundy red dress and matching heels. She was wearing matching color lipstick and had styled her hair half-up half down. She had checked her appearance in the mirror at least a dozen times, then had jumped in her car and had driven up north to Le Chez, in the Lincoln Square area of Chicago. Now, sitting in the parking lot, she checked her appearance one last time, and as she put her compact mirror back in her purse, she looked at her .22 nestled beside her wallet. She took a few deep breaths, exhaled one last time, and exited her car. She walked into the elegant French restaurant and approached the hostess. She was about to give her name when the maître d approached.

"Good evening, Miss Lopez", he said.

"Uh…hi", Santana said, surprised by the fact that the maître d knew her name.

"Miss Fabray is expecting you. Right this way, please", he said, and escorted Santana to a quiet table in the back. Santana saw Quinn sitting at the table, and her breath caught. Quinn was wearing a low-cut black evening dress and elegant black strap heels. She was looking up expectantly as the maître d lead Santana to the table, and she rose as Santana neared. She thanked the maître d as he left and leaned in to kiss Santana's cheek. Santana froze for a second but then smiled faintly as she felt Quinn's lips connect with her skin and smelled Quinn's perfume. Quinn pulled back and said, "You look lovely".

Santana blushed a bit but managed to get out, "Thank you. So do you." Quinn smiled and then pulled out Santana's chair. Santana sat, and Quinn pushed her chair in. As she went back around the table to her own chair, her fingers lightly brushed Santana's hair. Santana's eyes closed for a second. It had been a long time since she had felt anyone touch her hair.

Quinn sat down and then looked at Santana. "Thank you for coming tonight", she said.

Santana smiled and looked at Quinn. She was absolutely beautiful, Santana thought. She had perfect bone structure, lovely golden blonde hair, and stunning green eyes. She had a poise about her that suggested confidence, and definite femininity, yet there was an underlying hardness about her that said, This is someone who has been through it, Santana thought. She looked at Quinn and said, "You're welcome. How did the maître d know my name?"

Quinn looked at Santana. "I gave it to him, and I told him I was expecting the most stunning Latina he would ever see in his life. I think he put it together pretty easily when you walked in", she said and smiled.

Santana blushed a little again, but regained her composure quickly. "So, I'm here", she said. "Tell me everything."

Quinn laughed. "Wow, Special Agent Beautiful. Starting out quick, aren't we? Can we at least order dinner first, have a drink, and maybe even engage in some small talk before we dive into business?" When Santana didn't say anything, Quinn said, "I mean, it's not like you need to rush off tonight. I don't think there's going to be another sniper killing, at least while we're having dinner together." She looked at Santana and winked. A bottle of wine was already on the table, and Quinn poured each of them a glass.

Santana looked at Quinn. "Quinn, you really can't say that to me. I mean, I'm a fede-"

"Yes, I know, you're a federal agent." Quinn rolled her eyes. Santana looked down at her purse, and Quinn said, "By the way, you won't need the .22 that's in there."

Santana looked up at her in surprise. "How did you know…?" she let it trail off.

Quinn laughed. "I didn't. I just guessed." She leaned forward, and in an exaggerated conspiratory voice, said, "I brought one with me, too." At that, Santana actually cracked a smile, and Quinn sensed that she was starting to soften up. She knew this date had to be somewhat bizarre for Santana, and it was weird for her too, but Quinn had felt compelled to ask her out. She was drawn to Santana, and she figured that Santana had to be at least drawn to her in some way, shape or form, otherwise she wouldn't be here tonight, and she probably would have just arrested her last night. "So, how about we just agree to not use our guns tonight?"

Santana smiled. "I can agree to that. Unless I see you break the law. Then I have to draw my piece and take you in." She smiled, almost apologetically.

"I promise, Santana. I won't break any laws tonight", Quinn said coyly. "May I call you Santana? Or would you prefer Special Agent Beautiful?"

Santana smiled and then said, "Yes, you may call me Santana." She paused for a moment and then said, "Speaking of guns, last night, how did you take my gun from me so easily?"

"You weren't focused", Quinn said. "I could see it in your eyes. You were distracted, so it was easy for me to upend you. You can do all sorts of things when people aren't focused." Quinn shrugged her shoulders.

It was true, Santana thought. Ever since Artie had pulled up that image of Quinn on the traffic cam, Santana had been distracted. There was just something about Quinn, maybe her raw beauty, maybe the fact that she answered to no one, or maybe something else, but Santana was drawn to her. And then there was Quinn's unexpected appearance at Marangos, and then her brazen, unafraid attitude while Santana had her gun trained on her, and then, out of all possibilities, Quinn asking her out on a date. And then, to top it all off, there was Quinn planting a kiss on Santana's lips. Things just hadn't gone the way Santana would have expected. And not necessarily in a bad way, she thought, except for that kick to the ribs. I should have been more careful turning the corner when I chased after her, Santana thought, but just seeing Quinn at Marangos and then watching her smile and twiddle her fingers as she ran out the door had put Santana's mind somewhere else.

Santana smiled and then said, "Well, then I'll have to make sure I'm always focused when I'm around you." Quinn smiled, and Santana looked around the restaurant. "I've never been in here", she said, changing the subject. "Do you come here often?"

Quinn nodded. "It's my favorite place to eat", she said.

"Because it's French?" Santana asked. "Fabray is French, isn't it?"

Quinn smiled. "Yes, Fabray is French, and that's how I was introduced to this place, through my family, but I keep coming here because the food is the best in the city, not just because it's French. Speaking of which, shall we order?" Quinn asked, as the waiter approached. Quinn motioned to the waiter to take Santana's order first, and Santana ordered the Parisian style pumpkin gnocchis in brown butter sage sauce, and Quinn ordered the Coriander duck with toasted almonds in béarnaise sauce.

"So…do you bring all of your dates here?" Santana probed, when the waiter had left.

Quinn laughed lightly. "No, Santana, in fact, I've never brought a date here. Well, at least not before tonight." She smiled at Santana and winked.

"Okay, um…well, I'm honored then, I guess", Santana said, and blushed a little.

"Do you like it so far?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah, it's really nice", Santana responded, looking around again. It was definitely the fanciest restaurant she had ever eaten at.

"Nicer than the last date you went on?"

Santana looked at Quinn with disbelief. "Quinn…"

"You never answered my question from last night. I figure if I'm going to answer some questions, then I think it's only fair that you do the same. And, since you don't have anything to offer me about a case that I'm working on, I'll settle for some personal details. You know – normal date stuff", Quinn jockeyed, and then leaned in a bit and stared into Santana's eyes. "So, when is the last time you were on a date?"

"Like, a year ago", Santana said, almost sheepishly.

"And?"

"She's a self-defense instructor. We met when she came in to JOCT to teach a seminar. We went out once. It didn't go anywhere." Santana looked at Quinn. "How about you? When's the last time you were on a date?"

"Ooooh, I like that", Quinn said, noting how Santana had turned the question right back around on her. "A skilled interrogator, turning the question right back around", she said and laughed.

Santana laughed as well. The ice was breaking, Quinn thought. "I am a skilled interrogator. And don't think that your charming laugh is going to get you out of answering the question", Santana said.

The laughter died down, and Quinn said, "So, my last date…do you want business or personal?"

"Either", Santana said.

"Okay…let me see…last date…" Quinn made a show of remembering. "Oh, right. Nine months ago. It was business. Kind of."

"Tell me about it", Santana said.

"He was an arms dealer selling high-grade plutonium to Chechnyan rebels", Quinn said. "I was contracted by the Russian Interior Ministry to stop the sale. So, I came onto him at a club in Russia, and he and I had dinner together."

"And?"

"We got a hotel room above the restaurant and made love."

"Wow. And…where did it go from there?"

"I slit his throat when he fell asleep", Quinn said, matter-of-factly.

"What!?" Santana almost jumped out of her chair.

Quinn laughed. "I'm totally kidding, about the whole thing. That never happened. O-M-G, you should see your face, Santana."

"You-!" Santana said in mock anger as she smiled. "You just totally played me." She pouted.

"I'm sorry", Quinn said, still laughing. "I just couldn't resist."

The two women laughed together, and then Santana said, "No, seriously, your last date…?"

"It was about six months ago", Quinn said. "She's a graphic designer that I met at a monthly networking event for freelance graphics artists." Santana stared at her, so Quinn said, "Yes, Santana. I actually do have a life outside of what you think you know about me."

"Okay, and what is it that you think I think I know about you?" Santana asked.

"Wow. That was pretty roundabout", Quinn said. "Is that like, 'I know that you know that I know that you know that I know that you know?' Some fancy JOCT speak to confuse the suspect?" Quinn smiled and winked at Santana.

"No", Santana said, smiling herself. "I just…want to know about you. And what you've been up to lately." Then she lowered her eyes and said, "That's the deal, remember?"

"Oh, yes. The deal", Quinn said. "Well, how about we get into that in a bit?"

"Fine", Santana said. "Then let's get back to your last date."

"Ah, yes. We went out twice, and nothing really came of it."

"And why's that, do you think?"

"It just wasn't there", Quinn said and shrugged her shoulders. "How about you? Why do you think your last date didn't go anywhere?"

"Same. It just wasn't there. Plus, my hours are pretty crazy. I mean, it would take someone really understanding to put up with me."

"Or, maybe someone who believes enough in what you do, which would make someone understanding enough to put up with the hours", Quinn said, and took a sip of her wine. "Oh – food's here", she said, as the waiter brought their plates. "Bon appetite", Quinn said to Santana, as they started in.

"Wow", Santana said, as she took a bite of gnocchi. "This is…amazing."

"I'm glad you like it", Quinn said. "Do you want to try a piece of duck?"

Santana paused. "Um…sure, thanks", she said, as Quinn put a piece of duck on her plate. "Do you want a piece of gnocchi?"

"Sure. I've actually had it here, but it's been a while", Quinn said, as she speared a piece of gnocchi from Santana's plate onto her fork. "It's delicious, isn't it?" she asked Santana, as she put the piece in her mouth.

"Yeah, it's…absolutely delicious". Santana was truly impressed. The food here was exquisite. She could see how it was considered one of the best restaurants in the city. "So, um, if this is your favorite place to eat, but you don't bring dates her…who do you bring here?" Santana asked, trying to change the subject back to Quinn. She wanted to find out more about her, but, she found herself slipping into becoming more curious about Quinn personally than professionally.

Quinn smiled and took a sip of wine, then said, "When I come here, I actually come here by myself most of the time."

"Interesting", Santana said and then thought. She doesn't mind dining alone. Santana thought about Quinn dining at Salvatore's for almost three hours by herself while she scoped out the joint and ran surveillance on Costello and Pazzarelli. "So, where are you from? I mean, you're of French descent, but were you born in France, or were you born in America, or maybe somewhere else?"

"As in, do I have an exotic backstory, the kind you might expect a mysterious assassin to have? Like, did I grow up in French Algeria, making bombs as a kid, or did I serve in the French Foreign Legion as a teenager?" Quinn asked, jokingly.

"No", Santana said and smiled. "Look, I'll stop trying to pry for professional information. At least for now", she said. She looked at Quinn, and Quinn smiled, partly out of relief, and partly because Santana was so damn…desirable, trying to navigate her way through this dinner that she just couldn't quite get a handle on. Santana looked at Quinn, smiled and shrugged slightly. "Right now, I'm just trying to get to know you, as a person. As my date", Santana said and smiled.

Quinn smiled back. She was enjoying this. "I was born and raised in Chicago. Well, just north of the city, in Evanston."

"Sure, I know it. I used to go up there for soccer tournaments when I was a kid. We played at Duke's Field."

"Oh sure. I used to run track there." Quinn said. "Where did you grow up?"

"Elmwood Park", Santana said.

"Sure", Quinn said. "On the west side of the city. I used to go to the Harlem and Irving Mall when I was in high school. They had the largest Gap in the city there at that time."

"That Gap is still there", Santana said and laughed. The mall was two blocks from where Santana had grown up. Quinn laughed too, and as the laughter died down, both women thought, God, this is nice. It's kind of like, well, a real date. Santana looked at Quinn and then said, "It's funny, like, I know things about where you grew up, and you know things about where I grew up."

"Yeah, well, we didn't grow up that far apart. Maybe ten, fifteen miles", Quinn said.

"I guess not", Santana said. For some reason, it was hard for her to imagine that Quinn grew up anything like her, since she did something so different now.

Quinn seemed to be reading her thoughts. "You know, Santana, just because I have a different profession than you do, doesn't mean that I grew up all that different than you. I mean, it's not like I grew up shooting automatic weapons and blowing things up as a kid. I had a normal Chicago kid's childhood. I went to public school, played sports, went to Cubs games, movies, birthday parties, etc. The same stuff that you probably did growing up."

Santana smiled sheepishly. "Look, I'm sorry. I mean, I guess it's just…I just wonder how it is that, if we grew up the same, we went in such opposite directions."

Quinn looked at Santana and then asked, "Was my job really that much different than yours is, Santana? You catch bag guys here in this city. I did the same thing. I just had a much larger playing field and had to travel around the world to do it."

"How do you know the people you were chasing were bad guys?" Santana asked. She didn't know a whole lot about the world of Special Forces, or Special Operations in general. It was a very secretive world, and the participants were notoriously tight-lipped. But, she had an idea that there was a pretty large grey area in which professionals of that world operated.

Quinn looked at Santana. "That's a good question, Special Agent Beautiful. How do you know that the people you chase are the real bad guys?"

"Because, there's intel, dossiers, all sorts of info on these guys", Santana replied.

"Yup. We had all that too, on the people we chased." Quinn countered.

Santana stared at her. It was like hitting a tennis ball against a wall. It kept coming back. She decided to drop the subject and shift directions a bit. "So, you did serve in the Special Forces, then?"

Quinn put down her wine that she was holding and looked Santana straight in the eye. "What do you think, Santana? If you ask me, I'll tell you the truth."

Santana took a deep breath, exhaled, and then asked. "Did you serve in the United States Army Special Forces?"

Quinn nodded. "Yes, Santana. I did."

Now, the moment of truth, Santana thought. "Did you kill those two Mafioso last week, and those three Disciples last night?"

"What do you think?" Quinn asked.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

This is just bizarre, Santana thought. This date, this whole thing, it's all kind of surreal. Here she was, sharing dinner with a woman who she was pretty sure assassinated five people in the last week. Sure, they were all criminals, but still. This whole thing was just crazy. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but also, a part of her just wanted to have a normal date with a beautiful woman, to not get into something so deep that she might regret knowing the truth, so she let go of the question she was about to ask again and said, "Okay, we're going to get back to that, and also back to what you were saying about our jobs being the same, because I'm not sure if they are, but I'm dying to know how you got into joining the Special Forces in the first place."

Quinn leaned back in her chair. "It started when I was around fifteen or so", she said. I was living with my parents in Evanston. They were kind of foodies, so they liked to try new restaurants. Sometimes, the restaurants they tried weren't in the best neighborhoods. Anyway, one night they went out to dinner, and they came back much later than I had expected. Apparently, they were mugged when they were walking back to their car after dinner."

"Awww…I'm sorry, Quinn", Santana said.

"Thank you", Quinn said. "Anyway, they had gone to the police station to file a report. As you may have guessed, the police never found the assailant."

"Well, it's too bad about the mugging, but at least your parents weren't hurt."

"That's true. They weren't hurt, and the assailant only got my father's wallet and watch, and my mother's purse and jewelry. But, I remember being so angry at the fact that they had been mugged. I was an only child, so my parents were everything to me." Santana noticed that Quinn used the past tense. "I wanted to catch the assailant and make him pay. Or, I wanted the police to catch him and make him pay. But, he was never caught. And, and as time went on", Quinn continued, "I became less angry that my parents had been mugged, and more angry that the assailant was never found."

"So, that's where the vigilante comes from, huh?" Santana asked.

"No. Not just yet", Quinn continued. "My father was a successful real estate broker, and he and his firm were buying up property in various up-and-coming neighborhoods in the city. One of the areas they were buying property in was Little Italy. Little Italy has many good restaurants, so property value had come up, since it had become a hot place to dine. One night, about two years after the mugging, my father took my mother out to dinner at a restaurant in Little Italy. It was next to a property he was thinking about buying, and he wanted to show her the property. When they came out of the restaurant, they were shot and killed."

"What?!" Santana said in disbelief. She stopped chewing, her mouth hanging half open, full of food.

"Yup. Just like that. Gunned down in a drive-by shooting. A big investigation was opened – local police, the FBI, etc. Apparently, the mafia didn't want anyone buying up property in Little Italy, and, instead of just warning off prospective buyers verbally, or just offering more money to keep the properties in the hands of the local residents, they decided to 'send a message', so they shot my father and my mother as a warning to every other prospective buyer to stay out of Little Italy. No warning. No discussion. No thought to how shooting them would affect me, their daughter. They just shot and killed them." Quinn looked down, and when she looked up, Santana could see a tear start to form in her eye.

"Quinn – I'm so sorry." Santana said. She wanted to reach out and give Quinn a comforting touch, but Quinn's hands were in her lap, and the large, elegant table placed too much distance between them for Santana to be able to reach across the table and touch Quinn's arm.

Quinn wiped away the tear and continued. "I was devastated. I moved in with my aunt and finished off high school. I'd always had an interest in art and an aptitude for computers, so after high school, I went to college at Northwestern to study graphic design and computer science. I attended college for a couple years, but I couldn't focus, and I just felt like my life lacked direction. I guess I was searching for meaning. On top of that, underneath everything was the hurt I felt due to my parents' deaths. Over time, sadness turned to anger, and beneath the surface, I was harboring a desire for revenge. Anyway, while I was at Northwestern, I met an army recruiter. He told me that the army is a good place to find meaning in one's life, which is probably what army recruiters tell a lot of prospective recruits. Anyway, I was pretty lost, so, I ended up dropping out of college and joining the army."

"Wow", Santana said, since that was about all she could think of right then.

"I went through basic training, and then I went through the army's basic combat training course. When I finished BCT, one of my instructors suggested that I try out for the Special Forces. I was in good shape, and I had scored well on some aptitude and ability tests, one of them being on the rifle range. I had no other plans, and the thought of one day avenging my parents was still in my mind, and I figured I could pick up some valuable skills in the Special Forces, so I entered the Assessment and Selection program. Six months later, I donned the green beret and joined a Special Forces unit. I served on the Special Forces for six years, and I was honorably discharged two years ago."

"Wow", Santana said again. "So, what was it like? Being a part of the Special Forces?"

"It was grueling, as you might expect", Quinn said. "First off, they physically work you and deprive you of sleep. Then, they teach you all sorts of stuff: tracking, surveillance, hand to hand combat, advanced weapon tactics, explosives, electronics. Long range shooting. They also teach you languages and customs, since you will most likely be operating in another country. The thing they teach you most, though, is how to problem solve and improvise on the fly."

"Wow", Santana said for the third time. "Well, it sounds…fascinating, to say the least, and, well, quite a life you've had", Santana said, since she couldn't think of anything else to say. "And…what have you been doing since you were discharged from the army?"

"I've been living off of my inheritance from my parents, and working part-time as a graphic designer and computer consultant", Quinn smiled, and then said, "among other things."

Santana stared at her. She wanted to follow up on the 'other things' part, but Quinn spoke first and said, "Your turn. How about you? What was your path to becoming a special agent in JOCT?

"My father was killed in a car accident."

Quinn looked at her and out down her fork. "I'm sorry to hear that", she said earnestly.

"Thanks", Santana said. "He was driving home from work one day. He was going through an intersection, and a driver coming cross traffic ran a red light. The driver had been drinking at a happy hour that day. He was drunk, and he was texting on his phone. He wasn't paying attention, and he T-boned my father's car, right on the driver side door."

Quinn's face registered sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Santana."

"My father died on impact. The other driver walked away. He was a first time offender. His lawyer got him down to two hundred hours of community service. My father has been dead for seventeen years." Santana looked down and then looked up. "It's not fair. Two hundred hours for my father's life. And all because someone couldn't follow a few simple rules. Just couldn't fucking follow the law. So, I got into law enforcement. I went to college and got my degree in criminal justice, and then I joined the police force here in Chicago. I was a cop for a couple of years, working the gangs here in the city. Then I joined the FBI. I worked in Organized Crime for a bit, and then I heard about JOCT, so I applied. They accepted me for the Chicago office because I am familiar with Chicago, and because I have experience working in a federal agency. I can bridge the gap between the two worlds – the local and the federal."

The two women were silent for a minute, and then Quinn said, "Well, it sounds like we have some similar experience…personal tragedy."

"Laws need to be followed", Santana said, continuing her thoughts. "When people start breaking laws, bad things happen."

"When bad people do bad things, bad things happen", Quinn responded.

"I want to make this world a safer place", Santana said. "That means that people need to follow the laws and rules. And, if they don't, I'm going to be there."

"I want this world to be a safer place, too", Quinn said. "But, laws and rules aren't always going to ensure that. People break rules and laws all the time. And they get away with it, all the time. Justice needs to be served, regardless."

"If people followed the law, bad things wouldn't happen", Santana said resolutely.

"If people acted right and were good people, we wouldn't need laws", Quinn countered. "Look, Santana – we want the same thing. Good people safe, bad people behind bars. Or…maybe…somewhere else." Like six feet under, Quinn thought. She looked right at Santana and leaned in a bit. "Maybe we can help each other out."

Santana stared at Quinn. "Wait-what?" she said. "Quinn - I can't work with you."

"Why not?" Quinn said. She leaned in. "Look, we both know that the Maranos and the Disciples are bad, law-breaking scumbags in the first degree. If they aren't dealt with, there's just going to be more and more innocent bodies piling up."

"I agree, but I can't work with you because, it's against the law. I mean, even if I wanted to work with you, which, well, to be honest, I could see the benefit, I couldn't." Santana looked at her. "I mean, I'm probably breaking like eight federal statutes just having dinner with you right now."

Quinn rolled her eyes slightly. "Look, no one has to know we're working together. I can help you out without anyone knowing."

"People will find out. I mean, I found you out."

"I left you that hair, on top of the bank, so you could put two and two together. And you're the only one out of your whole crew who was able to do so", Quinn said. "Look - we both know how things work. There's the ideal world, and then there's the real world. The ideal world is that you and your law-abiding partners will be able to take down the mob and the gangs and everything will be hunky-dory. In the real world, that's never going to happen. Your agencies are too congested with process, procedure, politics and bureaucracy to get anything done. You need help. Someone who works on the outside, who isn't bogged down by anything." Santana just stared at her, so Quinn repeated herself. "Santana – we want the same thing."

"Maybe so", Santana said, and looked at Quinn forcefully. "But we need to go about it the same way."

Quinn held Santana's stare, and then she looked down. She looked back up and smiled a bit. "Well, you just let me know." Santana's face softened a bit, and Quinn said, "Hey – enough business for tonight, okay? Let's not spoil our date arguing. You just let me know tomorrow or whenever, yes?"

Santana stared at Quinn, and then nodded slowly and smiled slightly.

Quinn saw Santana nod, and smiled. "Do you want dessert?" she asked.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Well, that was one of the more interesting dates I've had", Santana said, as she and Quinn walked to their cars in the parking lot.

"Did you enjoy it?" Quinn asked.

"I did, yes. And thank you", Santana said. Dinner had been lovely. Kind of surreal and a bit confusing and, well, to be honest, bizarre, but still lovely nonetheless.

"You're welcome", Quinn said. And she meant it.

Santana reached her car first and unlocked it with her remote. She turned to face Quinn. "So…what's next?"

Quinn looked into Santana's eyes, and then looked down. She reached out slowly and took Santana's hands. She felt Santana go rigid, but she looked up and smiled, and Santana relaxed. "Well, do you feel like continuing the night?" When Santana didn't say anything right away, Quinn said, "I've got a place nearby, in the Square here, actually." It was one of a few apartments Quinn had. She never knew when extra places would come in handy. "Do you…want to come over for a drink?"

Santana looked into Quinn's green eyes. This woman is fascinating, she thought. She's beautiful, smart, complex, and obviously skilled at many things, but, there's something more. She's a nice person. She's a nice person, and a caring person, Santana thought. She could feel Quinn's sympathy when she told Quinn about her father. She could tell Quinn cared about making sure good people didn't get trampled on by bad people. Yes, I'm pretty sure she doesn't always follow the law, and yes, even though she hadn't confirmed her involvement, I'm pretty pretty sure that she killed five people last week, Santana thought. But, despite all that, she's still a good person. She's not a cold-blooded killer. She has a conscience. Santana's mind was spinning, and she looked down, and then back at Quinn, who was looking at her expectantly. "I do", Santana said, "but not tonight." She looked apologetically into Quinn's eyes and squeezed Quinn's hands.

"Well, okay", Quinn said. She was still smiling, but inside she was spinning. Did I just get denied? she thought. That usually doesn't happen to me. She understood the reasons why, or at least she figured she did, since she was pretty sure that Santana was hesitant to get involved with someone who may be illegally eliminating criminals. But still, she had really wanted to continue the night, and the fact that Santana was cutting it short had stopped Quinn in her tracks. She recovered, squeezed Santana's hands back and said, "Well, then, why don't you just let me know if you can use my help, then", she said.

Santana looked into Quinn's eyes, and then looked at the ground. There was all sorts of shouldn't-be-doing-this happening here. She looked back up at Quinn, who was still smiling at her. "I-I-I don't know", Santana said. "I mean, this...this is just crazy", she said.

"Crazier than bad people getting away with doing bad things?" Quinn asked.

"I...just don't know", Santana said.

Quinn smiled at her again, and then stepped closer. Santana could smell her perfume. Quinn leaned in and said, "Well, how about you think about it, and in the meantime, since there are no sirens or flashing lights around right now, I'll give you this." She let go of Santana's left hand, cupped Santana's chin, and planted her lips on Santana's. Santana stood there for a second, in shock, then closed her eyes, let her lips relax, and returned the kiss. She felt Quinn's tongue gently enter her mouth and lightly touch her own. The two women remained pressed for a minute, tongues dancing lightly, and then Quinn broke the kiss. She pulled back, smiled, and lead Santana by the hand to the driver's side door of Santana's car. She opened it for Santana to get in. Santana smiled, almost shyly, then got in her car.

Quinn said, "Have a great night, Special Agent Beautiful", then shut the door for Santana. Quinn watched as Santana fired up her engine and backed out of the parking lot. Quinn then turned around and walked to her own car. As she was about to get in, she heard Santana call out. "Wait!" Quinn turned around. "How can I get a hold of you?" Santana asked.

"You tracked me down before", Quinn said and smiled. "Track me down again". Santana just stared at her, so Quinn said, "Or, maybe I'll find you." Quinn winked and got in her car, then fired up the engine and drove off.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for all of the feedback, likes, etc. Some thoughts from me:

As some of you have wrote in your feedback, this story is a little different than other stories on FF, and, to be honest, it is a little different for me to write. Most Quinntana stories that I have read on FF are less action-oriented, and the plot revolves more about Quinn and Santana themselves. Oftentimes there are other romantic interests that enter the story, which serve as the main antagonistic element, or Quinn and/or Santana's own conflicted feelings that serve as the main antagonists. I wanted to try to stay away from that in this story, and make the plot be not only more action-oriented, but also make the drivers be more about how Quinn and Santana feel when it comes to questions about morality and right and wrong, as opposed to just "we can't be together because I'm with someone else", or "we can't be together because we're best friends and I don't want to ruin our friendship" kind of thing (btw I love those storylines as well, but I just wanted to try something different). Anyway, I kind of envision this story playing out a bit like a Hollywood action movie. In addition, some of you have mentioned that, in a lot of Quinntana stories, it's Santana that's chasing after Quinn. I love those storylines as well, but again, I wanted to try something different, which is why I made Quinn the assassin/aggressor.

Having said that, writing this story has taken me a bit out of my comfort zone, and as I mentioned before, I don't have it as fully worked out as I had my last two stories. Also, as I have said before, I appreciate all of the suggestions, and I have enjoyed incorporating them where I can. In addition, I appreciate all of the feedback. Even the critical feedback is nice, as long as it is constructive, since it serves as a guard rail for me to stay on track.

Also, some of you have asked me what happened to the confident Santana. She's still there. It's just that, with regards to Quinn, she's been taken out of her comfort zone, so she's not as confident as she is when she is busting criminals, or deducing who comitted a crime, or doing anything else that she is familiar with or proficient at. Anyone, even confident people, can become unsure if they are taken out of their element and placed in unfamiliar situations.

One other thing – there is some reference to violence against women in this chapter. It was hard to write, but there are bad people in this story who do bad things. Rest assured, though, that they get their due.

Thanks again, and I hope you are enjoying the story.

Chapter 11

Quinn laid in her bathtub, head back, eyes closed. It had been two days since her date with Santana, and she couldn't get the Latina off her brain. She was smitten, and even more so since Santana had ended their night early. Quinn had been sure that Santana would have taken her up on her offer to continue their date night with a drink back at her place, and once Quinn had gotten Santana back there, she had been confident she could have charmed the Latina beauty out of her dress. No such luck. Well, it looks like we're going to need to meet again, Quinn thought. She got out of the tub, dried herself off, and put on a pair of jeans and a sleeveless shirt. She sat down at her laptop and pulled up the JOCT website, then, as before, she pulled up another screen, typed in some code, and hacked her way into the JOCT database. She pulled up Santana's profile and looked at it for what may have been the billionth time in the last 3 days. She stared at Santana's picture and lost herself in the Latina's dark brown eyes. She looked at Santana's bio and imagined her as a young girl, then in high school, then in college studying criminal justice. Her eyes fell upon Santana's address – 1725 South Halsted Street, Apartment 2, and she fantasized about driving to that address and picking Santana up for their next date, Santana walking out of her apartment, looking lovely and smiling at Quinn. Quinn looked at Santana's profile for another moment and then sighed. Get a grip, she told herself. It's probably not going to happen. Not that Quinn was worried anymore that Santana would haul her in. If she was going to do that, she would have done it already. And sure, there was an attraction on Santana's part, Quinn could feel it. But, the bottom line is that Santana's a rule-following law-enforcement agent, and I'm a law-breaking assassin, Quinn thought. Still, some part of her hoped that, despite those differences, there might be a future together. She could envision it. They could be good together. It's like, in another life, under different circumstances, maybe it would have worked. You know what? Quinn thought. I can still make it work. Maybe it's just another problem to solve. I just want someone to date, to be with, to love, just like a normal person. Is that too much to ask for? And why should it matter what we do for a living, as long as we're both good people? There's no reason we shouldn't give it a chance, just because of what we do. It's who we are that counts. Then, she thought, I just don't know. Maybe not. Maybe the whole thing is just unrealistic. Maybe I should get back to focusing on the mission, she said to herself. Flip flop, flip flop. She ended up on flop and forced herself to get back to thinking about the next part of her plan. She knew that killing high-ranking members of both the Marano family and the Disciples would do one of two things: either make the two sides engage in all-out war, in which case they would kill each other off, or it would bring the two factions together for a talk. If that happened, she could crash the party and wipe out the leadership of both factions in one fell swoop. Now, she just needed to find out if the two sides were meeting, and if so, when and where. She could just stay hacked into the JOCT site and monitor Santana's log notes, which were meticulous, but maybe there's another way to find out what I need to know, she thought…a more enjoyable way. Flip back. Quinn smiled and shut her laptop, then changed into a beige dress, a brown belt and a pair of brown slingback heels. She put on some makeup and checked her appearance in the mirror. She grabbed her purse, making sure the .22 was in there - a girl just can't be too careful - and then headed out.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Santana was in her office, sifting through an endless stack of paperwork. Actually, she was going through the motions, but she couldn't stop thinking about Quinn. What is going on with me? She thought. I shouldn't even be thinking about this woman. She's a damn assassin, I'm pretty sure. But, our date…it was, well, it was…all in all, wonderful. A little bizarre, a little confusing, but wonderful. And the kiss…I know there was all sorts of wrong happening there, but still…it just felt good. It just felt…right. Like, take away the fact that she breaks the law and I enforce the law, and…yes…I could see us giving it a shot at being together. But, still…she breaks the law. And laws need to be followed, or bad things happe-

"Lopez."

The voice broke Santana out of her thoughts. She looked up and saw Schuester standing in her doorway. "My office – right now". She sighed, then got up and followed Schuester to his office. Puck and Finn were already there.

"What's up, guys?" Santana asked.

"Big news", Puck said. "Some intel came in today. The Maranos and the Disciples are meeting in one week."

"Meeting? Like, together, in the same room?" Santana asked, surprised.

"My sources confirm that meeting as well", Finn said. "Apparently, the one-shot kills to high-ranking members of their organizations have both sides spooked. They're meeting on neutral ground, at the Park Warehouse, in the Industrial Corridor."

"Wow", Santana said. The fact that they are actually agreeing to meet in the same room together without killing each other means something big, she thought. "If anything, I would have thought that maybe the two sides would have assumed that the other side employed the sniper and would start tearing each other apart."

"No such luck", Puck said. "Neither organization bought into that theory. Now, obviously, there's no love lost between these two sides, but the fact that they are getting together and could be talking about possibly forming some sort of alliance, if only temporarily until they get rid of whoever is sniping them off, is bad news."

"Yeah, it sure is", Santana agreed. She didn't want the two sides turning the streets into a war zone, but still, the two largest criminal organizations in the city forming an alliance…that can't be good, either, she thought.

"Speaking of the sniper, where are you with that?" Schuester directed his question towards Santana. "Finn and Puck tell me you have a possible lead.

"Uh…still working on it, boss", Santana said. "I've got a theory, but, uh, really, at this time…that's all it is."

"I kind of like this sniper", Finn said. "We should put her on the payroll."

"No, we shouldn't", Schuester said firmly, looking at Finn. Then, he looked at Santana and said, "Find this damn shooter and bring her – or him – in. And do it quick." He looked at Finn and Puck. "You two – find out who all's going to be at this meeting. If old man Marano and that scumbag Kody Mitchell are both going to be there, then I want us there as well, ready to move in. We can grab the leadership of these organizations and set them back years. It would be a great victory for all of us." Puck, Finn and Santana all nodded in agreement. Schuester looked at the three of them and then said, "Get to work."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Kody Mitchell was at Pimpz N' Ho's, a full nudity strip club. It was a regular Disciple hangout on the southwest side of Chicago. Three nude women were dancing on a stage. Gangsta Rap was blaring through the loudspeakers. Felipe Sosa walked up and sat down next to Kody.

"The meeting's all set up", Felipe yelled over the music.

"Good. One other thing – you think the pigs have anything to do with this sniper?

"No. We've been looking into it. We put the word out on the street. So far, no connection there."

"Alright. Here's wassup. I wanna make sure", Kody said. "You know that bitch from JOCT?"

"Yeah, the one running the investigation? I saw her on TV."

"Yeah, that one. Send some of your crew down to her crib on Halsted and 17th."

"You want us to waste her?"

"Nah. Just rough her up a bit. Knock out some teeth, pull some of her fingernails, or put a blowtorch to her for a few seconds. We just wanna send a message. I wanna make sure that, when we meet with the greaseballs, no muthafuckin' feds show up."

Felipe nodded, then got up and left, and Kody went back to enjoying his show.


	12. Chapter 12

I received some wonderful, colorful and interesting feedback for this round via both reviews and PMs. Now, I can't be sure, but I have a feeling that some of the feedback was from first-time callers. For those first-time callers, my usual M.O. is that I will respond with my thoughts here (at times I do like to open up individual dialogs with people if I can, so I prefer you post reviews logged in and not as a guest, but if I can't, and even if I can, most of the time, I will post thoughts here).

First off, I don't advocate violence against women, or anyone for that matter. I believe I commented on the fact that, for me, writing about violence is hard to do. But, as I also wrote, there are bad people in this story who do bad things. Trust me - I won't push the envelope into Hostel territory or anything, but if references to violence are upsetting to you, then this may not be the story for you.

Regarding the characters used in this story, besides Quinn and Santana, I used characters that I haven't used a lot of before. Puck had a minor role in one of my other stories, and Finn was mentioned once in another story, but Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina, as well as other characters, have all made more significant appearances in my other stories. So, if anything, I was just trying to include other Glee characters that I haven't really featured much of before. There's no other rhyme or reason. It had nothing to do with ethnicity or gender, and I'm certainly not saying that PoC or women can't function as well as anyone else in the roles in this story.

I'm not a staunch supporter of any particular political party. Also, regarding the morality of the story, I'm not really pushing any agenda. I will say that I can't see myself doing what Quinn is doing, but I think that writing about characters that do rather extreme things can make for good story. Anyway, getting back to morality - if anything, I guess morality can subjective. That can be a long conversation, and I'd rather not get into it here, but I will say that, with regards to this story, I did not write it to push any agenda (I'm not Michael Moore). To that point, and most importantly, **this story is supposed to be a fun read!** Please - don't look too deeply into it. I'm writing it for fun, and I'd like for you to have fun reading it.

Having said that, I'd like to continue a train of thought here. A single story can't be all things to all people. This story, again, is supposed to be a fun action read. That said, I sense that some people would like it to go in a direction other than that, or want more out of this story, or something. Also, I've received some feedback about how this concept is somewhat original for FF. Honestly, I'd love to see where someone else would take it. Please, anyone - feel free to write your own story around this concept, or you can spin off from my story, or whatever. I'd love to read it. Or, just tell me where you would have gone with it. I'd love to hear about that, too.

Anyway, once again, **please - just have fun reading the story**. I wrote it for no other reason than that. Like I said, view it in the light of a Hollywood action movie, and grab some popcorn.

One last thing - this may be the last chapter for a couple days. I am slammed at work. I know I say that a lot, but I really am busy. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you are enjoying the story. Thanks as always for the positive, insightful and/or constructive feedback, and of course, thanks for reading.

Chapter 12

Santana parked in her garage and climbed out of the car. It was a little past 8pm. Getting out of work at that time was early for her, but she was tired. She unlocked the main door to her apartment building and started climbing the stairs to her apartment. Soft music emanated from somewhere. Someone was cooking. It smells good, she thought. She was hungry and looking forward to eating dinner herself. She rounded the landing to her apartment and froze. Her door was slightly ajar. She backed up a few feet and drew her gun. Her senses heightened, and she was instantly awake. She remembered the kick to the ribs that Quinn had landed on her, so she reminded herself to use caution. She slowly pushed open the door to her apartment and then tiptoed in, her gun leading the way. All the lights were off in her apartment, but there was a soft glow coming from the kitchen. Was that…music? She heard a dull crackling noise. Was something on fire? There was a dull scraping noise. What the hell is going on? Santana paused at the wall next to the arch entryway into the kitchen. Then she counted to three and whipped around the entryway, dropping into a shooter's stance, gun drawn.

"Freeze!" she yelled in standard law-enforcement tone.

"Hi beautiful, how was your day?" Quinn looked up from the stove and smiled as she stirred the contents in a pan.

Santana stood there, jaw open. Quinn was cooking and drinking a glass of wine. Soft music was playing from the kitchen stereo. All of the lights were off except for the light above the stove and the candle that was on the kitchen table. Santana noticed that Quinn had found the finest plateware and sliverware in the apartment and had set it out. Santana looked in disbelief around her kitchen, trying to make sense of the whole scene, and then looked back at Quinn. She was wearing a beige dress, a wide brown belt, and matching slingback heels. Her hair was down, and she looked absolutely gorgeous.

"Quinn! Jesus Christ, I could have shot you", Santana said.

"Well, that would have put a damper on our dinner date, wouldn't it have?" Quinn said, still smiling.

"W-w-what are you doing here?" Santana asked, as she holstered her gun.

"Making you dinner, gorgeous. Well, making _us_ dinner."

"No, I mean, what are you doing _here_, in my apartment?" Santana asked, incredulous.

"I wanted to see you. I've been thinking about you ever since our date the other night. I had a wonderful time at dinner, and I didn't know when you would contact me, or if you would contact me, since I didn't exactly give you a way to contact me, so I thought I would come see you." Quinn smiled.

"How did you get in here? And, how do you even know where I live?"

"I spouted off your address the night before our date, remember? I offered to pick you up", Quinn reminded her.

"Yes, I remember, but you didn't tell me how you got my address", Santana shot back.

Quinn put down the spatula and looked at Santana. "I'm an ex-Special Forces operator, remember? How hard do you think it is for me to find someone's address?"

"Okay…and how did you get into my apartment?"

Quinn just shot Santana a look that said, really? Then she smiled and said, "Dinner's almost ready. We're having chicken with a wild mushroom ragout, buttered asparagus and truffle oil potatoes. You have a few minutes to get changed." She smiled, like a housewife welcoming her spouse home from a long day at work.

Santana sighed and dropped her shoulders. Asking questions seemed to be getting her nowhere, so she just looked at Quinn and smiled slightly. "Thank you. I'll be just a minute." She walked into her bedroom and closed the door. She leaned back against a wall. How the fu-? Whatever, she thought, interrupting herself. I'm not even going to try to guess how Quinn found my address or got into my apartment. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm just going to try to relax and enjoy dinner. It does smell good, she thought. Quinn is apparently a woman of multiple talents. Santana stripped off her work clothes and then changed into a lavender dress and a pair of black heels, then went to the bathroom to touch up her makeup and hair. She came back into the kitchen just as Quinn was serving dinner onto plates and pouring her a glass of wine.

"Dinner's ready", Quinn said, looking up. "You look…lovely."

"Thanks", Santana said. "This", she motioned to the food, "looks lovely." Quinn came around to Santana's side of the table and pulled her chair out for her. Santana smiled and sat down. Quinn pushed her chair for her, and as she did, she leaned down and caught Santana off guard with a kiss on the lips. Santana froze for a second, but then relaxed, and their lips remained pressed for a moment longer. Then Quinn broke the kiss and took her seat across from Santana.

"This is kind of nice, right?" Quinn asked, as she started in on her dinner.

"What is?" Santana asked.

"This", Quinn said. "Having dinner. Together. Here. Like a couple. A normal couple."

Santana stared at her. She was still incredulous that Quinn had basically stalked her address and then had broken into her apartment, but Santana had to admit that, on the flip side, it was kind of nice to have someone greet her when she came home and dinner on the table. She smiled at Quinn and said, "It is nice. Besides the fact that you somehow found my home address and then broke into my place, I must admit that dinner is delicious."

"Hey", Quinn said, feigning hurt feelings. "I put in a lot of work rounding up the ingredients for tonight's dinner."

Santana smiled, letting Quinn know that, despite Quinn stalking her and breaking into her apartment, she was somehow okay with that and appreciative of the meal and Quinn's presence.

"So, how was your day?" Quinn asked.

Santana looked at her. "I figured you might already know. I mean, you already know where I live and how to get into my place."

Quinn laughed softly. "Touche. But, even if I did already know, it's more fun to ask. You know – we can pretend to be like a normal couple for tonight. I mean, don't you ever wonder what it's like, to have a normal life?"

"Do normal people break into each others' apartments, even if they are surprising them with a nice dinner?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe not. I've never been in a normal relationship, so I wouldn't know. But regardless, now that we're here, I want to hear about your day." Quinn smiled. She was having fun playing house, but part of what she was also doing was trying to find out if the Maranos and the Disciples were meeting, and if so, where and when.

Santana looked at her. "You know I can't tell you what we're up to."

"Then why don't you just say, 'it was fine, honey, how was your day?'" Quinn said and laughed softly.

Santana laughed too. This is kind of fun, she thought. "I don't think I want to know about you day", she said, half-jokingly.

Quinn smiled. "Well, I suppose maybe you shouldn't, seeing as how you're such a by-the-book gal", she said and winked at Santana. She decided to pry again. "So, what's the plan? What's the next step?"

"Quinn, I just said, I can't tell you. You know that."

"So, are you telling me that you guys don't have a plan?" Quinn knew she could find out what JOCT was up to, just by hacking into their database, but she wanted to see if she could get Santana to just tell her.

"I didn't say that. I just said I couldn't tell you the plan", Santana said.

Quinn smiled slightly. No such luck, but she figured it was worth a shot. She made an exaggerated show of sighing. "Well, then let's talk about something else. Something less contentious, something less likely to produce a lover's quarrel", she said, as she winked at Santana and poured them each more wine.

Santana smiled at her. She was enjoying having Quinn over, even though, again, Quinn had broken into her place. It had been a long time since she'd had someone over for dinner, and a very long time since she'd had someone as beautiful and intriguing as Quinn Fabray over. Maybe never. Scratch that – definitely never.

"This is really good", Santana said, as she cut another piece of her chicken. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"The Cooking Channel", Quinn said, and then laughed. "No, I've always been interested in cooking. Maybe in an alternate universe or something, I would have been a chef."

An alternate universe, Santana thought. There we go. An alternate universe, another life, perhaps, where we would have met under different circumstances. She decided to go with it. "So…in this alternate universe…what am I doing?"

Quinn put down her fork and folded her hands under her chin. "Let's see…you are…a teacher."

"A teacher, huh?" Santana asked. "And, what do I teach?"

"You teach…dance", Quinn said and smiled.

Dance, huh? Santana thought. "And…how did we meet?"

"We met…you were with some friends, some fellow teachers, and you came into my restaurant. I…I was making the rounds…and I stopped by your table to ask how everything was. You…answered for the table, saying that everything was wonderful. And…then I said, well, you should come back sometime. But I didn't say that to the whole table. I said that to just you. And…two weeks later, you came back for dinner. By yourself. And you asked me to join you. And…I couldn't, because we were too busy. So…you ate alone…but…I came out to visit as much as I could…and…when you were done eating…you asked me out."

"So, _I _ate at _your_ restaurant _alone_, and then _I _asked _you_ out?" Santana said. "Sounds like role reversal to me."

Quinn smiled and nodded. "Yup. And, we've been together ever since."

Santana smiled back. "Married to a chef. Sounds…wonderful", she said, and stared into Quinn's eyes.

"I can still cook", Quinn said, still smiling. "Even in this universe."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Quinn and Santana were sitting on Santana's couch. Quinn had made a lemon tart with fresh whipped cream for dessert, and they took that, the candle and the rest of the bottle of wine and their glasses into the living room. Santana was facing forward on the couch, and Quinn was sitting sideways on the couch, her arm on the backrest, her knees almost touching Santana's thigh.

"That was wonderful. Thank you", Santana said.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it", Quinn said.

Santana down and then looked up at Quinn and said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What we were talking about when we were at dinner the other night, about whether or not our jobs are the same-"

"Uh oh, back to serious conversation again, huh?"

Santana smiled a bit sheepishly and said, "I just want to know…well, look, I know that you people in the Special Forces operate in a world with a lot of grey area…so, I mean, I'm just wondering…" she trailed off.

"What?" Quinn urged gently.

"I mean, if you kill someone…how do you…" Santana trailed off.

"How do I live with myself?" Quinn articulated for her. "You're wondering how I live with myself if I kill someone?"

Santana looked at Quinn and said, "Yes. I suppose that's what I'm wondering."

Quinn set her glass of wine down on the coffee table. She thought for a minute and then said, "Well, if it's a bad person, doing bad things, then I feel justified pulling the trigger."

"But, you can't just go around killing people. I mean, it's against the law."

"Breaking the law doesn't mean you're always doing something bad."

"But, when people break the law, bad things happen."

"When bad people do bad things, bad things happen", Quinn said.

"We need law and order, Quinn."

Quinn looked at Santana for a moment and then said, "If breaking the law meant saving the life of someone you love, would you break the law?"

Santana looked back at Quinn. She was torn. Of course I would want to save the life of someone I love, she thought, but still…the law is the law, and I'm committed to upholding the law. "I don't know. I mean, I think so, but the law is still the la-"

Quinn leaned in closer and looked Santana right in the eye. "Because I wouldn't think twice about killing someone if it meant saving you."

Santana stared at her back. Her thoughts were swirling right now. Quinn, sitting so close…the smell of her perfume…her dazzling green eyes…the conversation they were having…the 2 glasses of wine she had drank…Santana couldn't put everything together at the moment, but she did know one thing. All of a sudden, in this moment, she felt safe. She felt safe, and she felt…loved. She wasn't sure if she was in love with Quinn Fabray, but she felt safe and loved. Loved, or at least that someone cared deeply for her. Santana opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was "I-I-I…"

Quinn looked at her for a moment longer, then got up off the couch. She took Santana's wine glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table, then climbed on top of Santana and straddled Santana's lap. She took her left hand and ran her fingers through Santana's hair, and then took her right hand and cupped Santana's chin. She looked into Santana's eyes for just a moment longer, and then leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips. Santana closed her eyes as she felt their lips connect. Their lips remained pressed for a moment, and then this time Santana opened the kiss, and Quinn felt Santana's tongue enter her mouth and lightly touch hers. They stayed there, locked, tongues dancing for a minute, and then Santana unbuckled Quinn's belt and tossed it to the floor. She pushed Quinn's dress up, and Quinn took it off the rest of the way. Santana stared at Quinn's body, lean and toned. She traced a wicked-looking scar that ran across the left side of Quinn's rib cage with her finger, and then looked up into Quinn's eyes. Quinn leaned down to kiss Santana again, and then she stood up and pulled Santana to her feet. She pulled the shoulders of Santana's dress down, and then Santana stepped out as it fell to the floor. Quinn looked at Santana again and planted another lingering kiss on her lips, and then she took Santana's hand and lead Santana to the bedroom.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Santana and Quinn laid naked in Santana's bed. Santana was on her side, and Quinn was behind her, lightly kissing Santana's neck and gently running her fingers through Santana's hair. Santana's eyes were heavy and she felt herself starting to drift towards sleep.

"Yes", Quinn said.

Santana tilted her head back so she could see Quinn's face. "Yes, what?"

"'Yes' to your question from dinner a few nights ago" Quinn said. "It was me."

"What was you?" Santana asked.

"You asked me if I killed those two mafia guys and those three gangbangers."

"That's right, I did", Santana remembered.

Quinn looked right at Santana and said, "Yes. I did. It was me."

Santana looked into Quinn's eyes. She reached up and ran her fingers through Quinn's hair, and then said, "I know." Then she leaned in and kissed Quinn on the lips and asked, "Why did you just tell me?"

"Because you asked me."

"I know, but why did you tell me? You didn't have to answer that question."

Quinn looked back into Santana's eyes and said, "Because I want us to give it a shot at being together. And, if we're going to do that, I want us to be honest with each other. Even if that means telling each other things that we may not want to say or hear."

Santana smiled slightly. She kissed Quinn on the lips again and then turned her head back. Together, she thought. With an assassin. But together. But with an assassin. This is just…crazy. Flip flop, flip flop, her mind went, as she drifted away into sleep, Quinn still lightly kissing her neck and gently running her fingers through her hair.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you all for the feedback, likes, follows, etc. Very much appreciated. I was able to finish up another chapter today. Just a few thoughts from me before we get into it:

So, I'm going to start shortening up the author's notes before chapters, although I may write a bit of a longer segment at the end. Also, I want to be clear that I really do enjoy all of the feedback that I receive, even the critical feedback, as long as it's constructive. I enjoy reading people's thoughts and responses, and I enjoy engaging in constructive and thoughtful dialog. I realize that I do write stories that are either a little more complex, or a little more dramatic, or whatever, and I like the fact that a story is touching readers enough to elicit passionate responses (let's be honest - boring stories are no fun). I know that I myself enjoy reading stories that make me react passionately. Again, the only feedback i don't appreciate is feedback that is non-constructive, insulting, or downright mean. So please - feel free to provide feedback. And, of course, I appreciate all of the positive feedback. It keeps me going.

One other thing - this chapter contains violence.

Thank you all again, and I hope you are enjoying the story.

Chapter 13

Santana was sitting in her office, downing her second cup of coffee. When she woke up this morning Quinn was gone. She had left Santana a nice little thank you note with two x's and two o's at the bottom, along with a phone number. Last night had been kind of like a weird, blurry dream, and today she felt a little disoriented and out of it. Working a big case. Come home. Door ajar. Draw gun. Enter apartment. Quinn in her apartment. Making dinner. Dinner date. Drink wine. Talk. Make love. Fall asleep cuddling. With a woman who breaks the law and takes matters into her own hands. How it is that I haven't hauled her in yet, I just don't know, Santana thought. I mean, Christ, I'm a law enforcement agent. But…I just can't seem to get myself to bring her in. This whole thing is just…well, she didn't know what this whole thing was, and she was trying to work through that in her head when her phone rang.

"Lopez", she answered.

It was Schuester. "Come down to my office."

"Be right there", Santana said, and hung up. Time to get back on the clock, she said to herself. She headed down the hall to Schuester's office. Puck and Finn were already there.

"Close the door", Schuester said as Santana walked in. Santana did so and then leaned back against the wall near the door.

"We've confirmed that both Giusseppe Marano and Kody Mitchell, along with all of their top dogs, are going to be present at this meeting", Puck said.

"That's right." Finn nodded his head in confirmation.

"Great", Schuester said. "All three of you - assemble your teams. Lopez – you're taking point. JOCT has the lead on this one. We'll meet back here in my office in two days for a tactical briefing." He looked at all three of them. "I want to net every single one of these guys."

"Uh…okay…" Santana trailed off. Finn looked over at her as she did.

"Think the sniper will show up?" Puck asked the room.

"In a way I kind of hope so", Finn said. "Maybe _she"_ Finn emphasized the word 'she' and looked at Santana as he did, "can take out a few of these scumbags for us before we net the rest."

"Cut it out", Schuester said to Finn. "If this sniper shows up, we're netting her – or him…whoever the hell it is – too." Santana's breath involuntarily hitched, and Schuester looked at her. "Lopez – you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah…I'm fine."

"Alright", Schuster said. He looked at the three of them. "Get to work."

Santana walked back to her office and Puck headed for the FBI office. Finn walked behind Santana.

"Hey", he said. "You got a minute?"

"Sure", she said. "Come on in". They both walked into Santana's office. Santana sat down, but Finn remained standing. "What's up?" she asked.

"Everything okay?" Finn asked.

"Y-y-yeah, uh…sure", Santana said. "Why?"

"Because you seem distracted", Finn said, staring at her. "And your breath caught when Schuester mentioned the sniper." Finn was direct.

"No, no…I'm fine", Santana said. "Just…tired."

Finn eyed her. "Anything I should know about?"

"Uh…like what?"

"You tell me."

"Um…no…not really."

"Okay." Finn leaned his hands on Santana's desk and then said, "This is the biggest raid we've ever executed. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, to grab the top brass of the two biggest crime organizations in this city and bring them down." He looked at her hard. "Just make sure you've got your head screwed on right."

Santana exhaled deeply. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Alright...alright. See you soon." He stared at Santana for a moment longer and then turned around and left her office. Santana sat in her chair, took a deep breath and exhaled. Please, Quinn, don't show up to this meeting, she thought. Just let us do our jobs, and we can end this whole thing without any more people getting killed…including maybe you.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Felipe Sosa walked into Da Crow Bar, a dive bar in Chicago's Eastside neighborhood. Kody Mitchell sat at a table in the back. Since incorporating most of the city's street gangs under the Disciple umbrella, he had expanded his territory, and now the Disciples had hangouts all over the city. Kody liked to move around and hold meetings in different places. You can never be too careful.

"All good?" Kody asked as Felipe sat down.

"We all good. Got soldiers ready. We'll bring some heat to this meeting, just in case shit gets ugly with the greaseballs."

"What about the bitch from JOCT? Did you pay her a visit yet?" Kody was hoping so. He wanted to hear a good story.

"No, not yet. We were gonna go last night, but we had a problem down in Beverly. Some muthafucka trying to sling dope under our radar. We greased him."

"He still alive?"

"Part of him is, maybe." Felipe smiled. "We'll get the JOCT bitch tonight."

"Cool", Kody said. "Give her a little something extra, for waitin' a day." He smiled.

Felipe smiled back. "You got it", he said. He and Kody locked their hands in a serpentine shake, and then Felipe stood up and walked out of the bar.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Santana was sitting at her desk. She was supposed to be putting together the tactical plan for how JOCT, the FBI and the CPD were all going to work together to raid this meeting at the warehouse, but instead she was staring at the piece of paper that Quinn had left on her bed this morning. Should I call her? She wondered. I want to, but I shouldn't. I'm falling for her, but she's an assassin. But I want to, but I shouldn't. But I'm falling…She was drifting in and out of that train of thought when her office phone rang.

"Lopez" she answered.

"So…dinner again, tonight?" It was Quinn.

"Qui–" Santana stopped herself before saying Quinn's full name. "What are you doing? You can't call me here!" Santana hissed into the phone.

"What? Are you telling me that the lovers of other JOCT agents don't call them at the office?" Quinn said, and Santana could tell she was smiling.

"Well, I'm sure they do, but their lov-" Santana was about to say 'their lovers aren't suspects in the murders of five people', and then thought to herself, 'lover', is it now?

"So…dinner again, tonight?" Quinn repeated.

"Another date? Already?" Santana asked.

"Well, I've been thinking about you" Quinn said. "A lot today. I don't have a big case to occupy all my time."

"Well, if it wasn't for you, I w-" Santana was about to say, 'I wouldn't have a big case,' but then remembered she was on the office phone. "Well, dinner depends", Santana said.

"On what?"

"Will you be there in the morning when I wake up, Houdini?"

"I'm sorry. I really wanted to stay, but I had something to take care of", Quinn lied. She actually hadn't had anything to do, but she had left anyway. She was falling for Santana, falling hard, and she was pretty sure that Santana knew it, but on the other hand, she didn't want to appear too lovestruck. Best to keep a little mystery, she thought. Plus, things were happening fast, and she needed a bit of time to think. Hence, the disappearing act this morning.

"I don't even want to know." Santana said.

"So, how about my place tonight?" Quinn asked.

"I…shouldn't."

"Ugh. Fine." Quinn feigned exasperation. "We can either go out, or I can come to your place again."

"Let's just do that – my place again. Is that okay?"

"Yep. You let me know when you're getting off work, and I'll come over. Unless you want me to let myself in again and have dinner on the table for you when you get home." Quinn giggled mischievously.

"You know what? Just surprise me." Santana said, in a tone that was part defeated, part incredulous and part happy.

"Okay. See you tonight. Have a great day at work, beautiful."

"Bye, you", Santana said, then hung up the phone, smiling and shaking her head as she did.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Quinn opened her eyes and looked at the clock. It was 3am. After she had hung up the phone with Santana, she had considered sneaking into Santana's place and surprising her with dinner again, but she had decided against it, so she had just waited for Santana to call her and tell her that she was leaving work. Quinn had asked her what she wanted to eat, and then had picked up takeout with dessert and another bottle of wine on the way over. She and Santana had eaten dinner and dessert at the kitchen table again, and then had skipped the couch and gone straight to the bedroom. That had been almost four hours ago. Santana had fallen asleep almost two hours ago, on her side again, with Quinn behind her, gently stroking her hair. Santana was lightly purring in her sleep. Quinn had hacked into the JOCT mainframe earlier today and saw that there was indeed a meeting set up between the Maranos and the Disciples. She saw that a combined team consisting of JOCT, the FBI and CPD were planning on raiding the meeting, and that Santana was taking the lead on the raid. Quinn knew that, between their night together last night and running point on this raid, Santana would be wiped out. She also figured that this might be the last night she would see Santana for the next few days until after the raid, so she had taken the initiative and called Santana so she could see her tonight.

Now, laying in Santana's bed, thoughts of their relationship were spinning in Quinn's head, and she was having trouble sleeping, so she gently kissed the back of Santana's neck and got up. Santana stirred slightly, and Quinn smoothed her hair. The streetlights on Santana's block were out, but the pale moonlight dimly lit the apartment. Quinn stared at Santana's sleeping form in the dimly lit bedroom and kissed her on the head, then walked to the living room. She kept the lights off and went to the balcony door. She was about to open the curtains covering the door and then open the door itself, but as a matter of habit she peeled the curtains back just a bit and looked out. She scanned the street as her hand went to pull the curtain rod. Halsted was a busy street, even at 3am. Quinn went to pull the rod when something caught her eye. Across the street and a few houses down, four men exited a car. One was carrying a duffel bag. Quinn stared at them, trying to make them out in the darkness. Something didn't feel right. They waited for a car to pass them, and then they slinked across the street. Quinn noted the way they walked, and her senses heightened. Another car passed them going the other way. Quinn caught a glimpse of their faces in the headlight, and her eyes shot open. She recognized one of the faces. It was Felipe Sosa, one of the top lieutenants in the Disciples. She had seen his picture on the JOCT website. Quinn stared into the darkness at the four figures approaching, and her eyes narrowed into slits. There was only one reason these four men were here, less than half a block from Santana's apartment and approaching. She stared for another moment as the men reached the sidewalk on Santana's side of the street, and then she closed the curtains.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Felipe Sosa reached 1725 South Halsted. The bitch's apartment was on the second floor. He looked at his men and smiled. He had brought along three of his meanest, and this was going to be fun. They were always going to make it hurt on the outside – that was always the plan. But, when Mitchell had told him to "give her a little something extra", he thought about making it hurt on the inside as well. He smiled at the prospect. That's why they had brought along a 20 pack of Trojan extra strongs, in addition to the duct tape, some cotton balls to stuff in the bitch's mouth so no one would hear her scream, the blow torch, and two pairs of pliers. He gave the men the nod, and they went through the gate and approached the main door to the apartment complex.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Santana! Santana!" Quinn whispered loudly as she shook the sleeping Latina.

"W-w-w-what?" Santana said sleepily as Quinn rousted her.

"Someone's coming for you", Quinn said. "We got hostiles. Hurry up! Get up, put on some clothes, some shoes, and grab your gun." Quinn quickly pulled on her jeans and T-shirt. She looked at her own shoes – three-inch wedges, and decided to stay barefoot. I should have gone with the jeans and combat boots look, she thought. Damn.

"W-w-what?", Santana said, as she jumped out of bed. She stumbled to her dresser, waking up quickly as the adrenaline flew into her veins. She put on a pair of jeans and a shirt, then put on a pair of running shoes. Then she went into the living room and pulled the 9MM off of the holster that was hanging next to her jacket on the door of her apartment. She checked the clip and then came back to the bedroom.

"Stay in the bedroom" Quinn said. Quinn moved quietly to the front door of Santana's apartment and put her ear to it. She could hear footsteps – heavy male footsteps – coming up the steps. She came back into the bedroom.

"Who is it?" Santana said. She was alert but not panicked.

Quinn admired her poise for a moment and then said, "Disciples."

"What are they doing here?"

"My guess is they're here to warn you off of raiding their meeting with the Maranos."

Santana stared at her for a moment and then said, "Wait – how did you know there was a meeting? And how did you know we were going to raid it?"

"Shhhh", Quinn said. "Do you have another gun? Give me your .22."

"No!" Santana said. "I can't just give you a weap-"

"Shhhhh", Quinn said. The footsteps had stopped, and someone was picking at the lock on the door. She looked at Santana. "Give me a fucking gun, baby", she hissed.

Santana shook her head. "I can't", she said, almost apologetically. She also registered that Quinn had called her 'baby'.

Quinn stared at her in disbelief for a second, a look that said, I can't fucking believe you still need to follow the goddamn rules even at a time like this, and then said, "Stay here", and then started to walk out of the bedroom.

"Wait – where are you going?"

"I'm gonna kill these bastards", Quinn said.

"Wait, Quinn – no!" Santana hissed, but Quinn was already on her way back out to the living room. Quinn stood behind where the front door would open and listened. She could hear someone still picking at the lock. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and ran the scenarios through her head. If they kicked the door open, she would go at the first man right away, and then take them out one by one. If they picked the lock, she would wait until they were all in and then take them all out as they stood in the middle of the living room. There were four of them, but Santana was armed, and they had the element of surprise. A gun in my hand would be nice right about now, Quinn thought, but oh well. Sometimes you go with what you have. These guys were bigger, but combat isn't about who's bigger - it's about who's better and who's more motivated, and Quinn was as good as anyone when it came to close-quarter combat, and…well, they were coming for her woman, so she was plenty motivated. These men were coming to hurt the woman she was falling in love with, and they were going to pay, gun or no gun.

Quinn opened her eyes and listened hard. She could hear Santana breathing heavy in the bedroom ten feet away. She heard the lock give way, and the door slowly opened. The first man entered, then the second, and then the third. Felipe Sosa came in last. They were all facing the other way from Quinn. Quinn stilled herself and counted three…two…one…

"Freeze!" Santana screamed, as she flipped on the living room light. She was standing in the doorway of her bedroom and had her gun trained on the four men. She had taken action because, despite whatever reason these men were here, she didn't want anyone to get hurt. Her plan was to hold them up, then have Quinn call the police and then hold them at gunpoint until the police arrived. Quinn squinted for a second, her eyes shocked by the sudden light.

"Muthafucka!" One of the men said, as he and his associates put their hands to their eyes.

"Fuckin' bitch!" Another one said. He started to draw his weapon. No such luck on her hoped-for plan, Santana thought, as she instinctually fired. She hit the man in the shoulder, and he dropped his gun and went down screaming, clutching the wound. The two other men besides Felipe drew their guns, and Quinn, calculating quickly, knew there was no way that Santana would be able to shoot both of them without getting shot. She sprung forward, her eyes now fully adjusted to the light, and kicked the gun out of the hands of the closest man. The man screamed as the bones in his hand shattered, then looked over towards Quinn, and as he did, Quinn delivered a vicious blow to the man's neck. The man's eyes went wide, and he made a gurgling sound and then fell to the floor. Quinn spun around to the third man, who had his gun almost in firing position. She lowered her level, shot in under his arm like a wrestler, and struck her palm against his knee. She heard the kneecap shatter, and the man howled in pain. Quinn came up hard and fast, striking the man in the groin. His legs buckled and he went down to his knees, and as his face was on its way down, it met Quinn's elbow on its way up. There was a crack, and the man fell face-first down onto Santana's living room floor. Quinn grabbed his head and twisted it violently. There was another crack, and the man went limp. Quinn whirled around and saw Felipe Sosa lunging for the gun of the first man who had fallen. Apparently, Felipe hadn't brought a gun. Quinn's guess was that he was going to watch with delight as his three henchmen tortured Santana, and then he was going to have his way with her. That thought made her blood run cold. She stomped on Felipe's hand as he was scrounging for the gun on the ground, and Felipe screamed as Quinn broke all of the bones in his hand. He tried to come up at Quinn with his other hand, but Quinn grabbed it, flipped him around, and put him in a crippling arm lock. Felipe tried to claw her eyes, but Quinn was too adept, and she applied pressure and snapped Felipe's arm at the elbow. Felipe screamed again, and then Quinn quickly got up and kicked Felipe in the kneecap, effectively ending his ability to move anywhere.

"Fuckin'…bitch" Felipe moaned.

Quinn looked at him and bent down but she heard Santana say, "No!" She looked over and Santana was still in the bedroom doorway, gun still drawn. Her eyes were wide, and she was shaking. Quinn walked over to her and cupped her face.

"Are you okay, baby?" Quinn said.

Santana nodded but didn't say anything. She couldn't believe what had just happened. Twenty seconds had passed. She had shot one man in the shoulder. Quinn had killed two others and crippled a third, using just her hands. She stood there, shaking. Quinn traced Santana's line of vision back to the grisly scene in the living room. The man that Santana had shot was moaning on the ground, blood coming out of his wound. Felipe was still muttering curses. Quinn looked at him and started walking over to him when she spotted the gym bag that they had brought. She bent over, opened it up, and grimaced when she saw the contents. She stared into the bag for a few more seconds, and then walked over to Santana. She grabbed the gun out of Santana's hands and walked over to Felipe. She knelt down and stared Felipe in the eyes, then aimed the barrel of the gun point blank in Felipe's face and pulled the trigger. Santana jumped and let out a gasp. Then she looked at the fourth man, still moaning and lying on the ground. She put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. She looked at the four bodies lying on the floor, then looked up at Santana, who was staring at her in shock.


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks for all of the feedback. Many of you seemed to enjoy the last chapter, and I had fun writing it. I had a few anonymous reviews which I chose not to post, since I couldn't open up a dialog with those reviewers (not sure why they don't log in, and to be clear, I'd love to open up a dialog, not to argue or anything, but to talk constructively and pick your brains or exchange ideas via PMs about how to better develop the story. Again, I'm not a professional writer, and I'm also not too proud to ask for help. As long as you're constructive, I'm open to feedback). But, your reviews were read and noted (btw I received one critical anonymous review that I thought was very well-written, and I am trying to incorporate the feedback). And, of course, it goes without saying that, I always appreciate the positive feedback. It keeps me going.

Anyway, thanks again for reading, and I hope you are enjoying the story. And remember - grab some popcorn. It's Hollywood, not a PhD dissertation. =)

Chapter 14

"Damn, Quinn," Santana said, in almost a whisper. She was coming down from shaking, but her eyes were still wide, and she stared at Quinn as Quinn got up. Quinn started to walk towards Santana and was about to hand her the gun when they heard a voice calling from the street.

"Sosa! What the fuck is going on up there? I heard shots!"

Quinn walked to the balcony and peered out. She saw another man crossing the street. The man looked up just as Quinn raised her gun and took aim.

"Shit!" the man yelled and started backpeddling.

Quinn steadied her hands for another second and then squeezed the trigger. It was a far shot and a tough shot, especially in the dark with a 9MM, but she grazed the man in the arm.

"Fuck!" the man screamed. He scrambled towards the car behind the one that Quinn had seen the other four men come out of. Quinn took aim and fired again but missed. The man jumped in the car and started up the engine. Quinn fired again and the rear window on the driver's side shattered. It was too dark, and the target was too far out of range to hit with a 9MM, even for someone as good as Quinn. The man swore again and sped off. Quinn stared at the departing car for a moment and then went inside the living room and ran towards the front door.

"Quinn!" Santana yelled. Quinn stopped and looked at Santana. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm gonna run that guy down and put two in his head."

"Quinn!"

"What!"

"Stop! J-j-just stop!"

"What! He's getting away, Santana!"

"Jesus Christ, Quinn. Look around you."

"What?"

"You just killed four people!"

"Yes, I did. And it'd do it again." Quinn stared at Santana. "These guys came here tonight to hurt you, Santana." Santana stared at her, so Quinn rolled on. "Do you know what's in that bag?" She pointed to the duffel bag. "Duct tape. Pliers. A blow torch. Condoms. They were going to torture you." Santana's mouth dropped open. Quinn looked at her and said, "They needed to die."

Santana stood there, staring at the gym bag, quiet for a minute, as the gravity of what might have possibly happened sunk in. Then she looked up. Her big brown eyes stared into Quinn's. "Thank you", she said.

Quinn smiled slightly and nodded.

"Quinn", Santana spoke after a moment. "You didn't have to kill them. We could have taken them in."

"What? Taken them in?" Quinn asked. "And what's this 'we' business, Santana?"

"Well, 'I' could have taken them in. Sosa, and the guy I shot. They were still alive. I could have arrested them and taken them in."

"And how were you going to explain that?" Quinn asked. "Like you took out four armed men by yourself, killing two of them and critically wounding two others? I mean, Schuester wouldn't believe you're that good. He'd know you had help." She stood still for a moment and then walked over to Santana and handed her gun back.

"Right – I would tell him, I did it with your help", Santana said.

"Santana, I can't be here. What would have happened if your fellow agents showed up, and I'm standing here, in this room? How are you going to explain that? That you and your "civilian" girlfriend took out four armed men? What do you think would happen next? They would question me and find out who I am. And, as much as I make fun of your male partners and call them testosterone-laden oafs, with me standing here, in this room, in this mess, they'd put it together, and they'd realize that I'm the one who's been taking out the trash."

Santana thought for a moment and then said, "Quinn – y-y-you lost control tonight."

"Well, if I hadn't been here…" Quinn let is trail off, not even able to verbalize the awful thoughts that crossed her mind.

"I know, and…you know I'm forever grateful. But still...I mean…just seeing you…just go off like that…" Santana trailed off. She had never seen anything like that. It had been like watching something out of a movie. Sure, as a law enforcement agent she was more desensitized to violence than the average person, but seeing Quinn take out three men by hand, and then, especially, seeing her take the gun and pull the trigger at point blank range on the two that were still alive…just to actually really _see_ something like that, up-close and personal, well…it had momentarily unnerved her. It's one thing to know that someone's a sniper. It's another thing to see someone snap a neck, crush a windpipe, break arms, legs and hands and then shoot people in the head at point blank range right in front of you. Especially if that someone is a woman who just crawled out of your bed five minutes ago. "Quinn, you lost control", Santana said.

"And you don't have enough control!" Quinn flashed anger. "How were you going to control this, huh? These guys came here, and they were going to hurt you. They deserved to die." Quinn stared hard at Santana and then said, "Someone had to bring them to justice."

"But that's our job, Quinn. To bring people to justice."

"Well, you're not doing it well enough! If you guys were doing your job, then people like this wouldn't even be out on the streets. Look - I've brought down six major crime figures in the last week, and a few of their henchmen as well. Just me alone. What have you and your whole organization done? Nothing! You wait around, and you follow your rules and you laws, and you get nothing done, while bad people go on, murdering and robbing and raping and hurting, like these guys were going to do to _you_ tonight!"

"But we need rules, Quinn! We need laws and rules to have a well-functioning society. If we start just taking the law into our own hands and shooting people whenever we feel like it, were no better than the criminals we try to protect people from."

"Don't fucking compare me to these assholes! I don't go around killing, mugging and raping innocent people. I take out people like this, so good people can live their lives without having to worry about being attacked. I'm nothing like these criminals. I just happen to have what it takes to stand up and fight against people like them."

"Quinn – you are a criminal! I mean, by killing people the way you just did…" Quinn just stared at her with an incredulous look, so Santana said, "Well, technically, you're a criminal. Look – I understand you were protecting me tonight, and…of course you how much that means to me. But, God damn it, Quinn…I mean, Jesus, look at this", Santana said, as she held her arms out to the room.

Quinn stared at Santana and then took a half-step towards her. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'll kill anyone who threatens you, and I'm not afraid to say that or do that. Bad people must go down."

"Quinn, you can't just keep killing people", Santana said. "You need to get under control. I mean, for you to just snap like that…"

"I didn't snap, Santana! I was protecting you!"

"You had already protected me! These guys were down. You didn't need to take my gun and shoot them point blank in the face."

"I told you I wouldn't think twice about killing someone if it meant saving you. You don't just give people like this a slap on the wrist." Quinn stared at Santana. She wanted to wrap her up in a hug right now, but there was something in Santana's face that said 'don't'. Quinn stared at her for a moment longer and then went over to the bodies and started trying to clean up the mess.

Santana watched Quinn in silence for a minute and then said, "How did you know about the meeting between the Maranos and the Disciples?"

"What?" Quinn said, as she started hauling bodies towards the front door.

"You knew about the meeting. How did you know?" Santana asked. Then she narrowed her eyes and said, "Wait – did you hack into the JOCT database?"

"Yup, I sure did", Quinn said. "And I'm going to be at that meeting, and I'm going to wipe out Marano and that dirtbag Kody Mitchell and the rest of their crew, too."

Santana stared at Quinn. Of course Quinn had hacked the JOCT database. That was also how she had gotten Santana's address and office line. She stared at Quinn for another moment as Quinn gathered up the dead men's guns and put them in the gym bag. "They're going to cancel the meeting", Santana said.

"What?"

"They're going to cancel the meeting. Mitchell will hear about this, especially with Sosa missing, and the Disciples will cancel the meeting." The impact of that hit Santana as she thought about what Schuester and Finn had said, that this meeting may be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and that netting the entire cast would be a big win for them.

"Well, then I'll find some other way to take them down."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Quinn. If you hadn't killed Sosa and that other guy, we could have taken them in", she said again.

"And done what?!" Quinn said indignantly, staring at Santana.

"Questioned them. Leaned on them. Offered them a deal. Had them turn state's evidence. We could have used them somehow to get to Giusseppi Marano and Kody Mitchell." Santana stared at Quinn. "If we had followed the law, we would have them in custody right now."

"Jesus Christ, Santana. Really?" Quinn shook her head, incredulous.

"Yes, really. That's why we should have followed the law."

"There were four men coming here to torture you and maybe kill you, and you're worried about following the law, even after what just happened?" Quinn shook her head in disbelief. "Well, I don't need another meeting to be set up. I'll find the rest of these guys the way I found the first ones. And I definitely don't need a damn law for that."

Santana was silent for a moment as she looked around. "Look at this mess…you're out of control…and how can I explain this?"

Quinn took another step towards her. "I'm cleaning it up. All you have to do is clean the blood off of the rug, or just toss it."

"Cleaning up is not the point, Quinn. You're out of control. And…"Santana trailed off.

Quinn heard something in her voice. She looked up and said, "And what?"

"And…" Santana trailed off again.

Quinn continued to look at Santana. She could tell what Santana was about to say. Something along the lines of, "I don't know if I can be someone who operates the way you do. Quinn walked over towards her. She reached up slowly and cupped Santana's cheeks with her hands, then put her forehead against Santana's and closed her eyes. "I-I-I'm falling for you, Santana. I'm falling for you, and I won't let anyone ever hurt you. And, if people try…they need to be punished…because that is justice…" They stayed like that for another minute, foreheads touching, and then Quinn pulled back. She looked into Santana's eyes and gave her the gentlest kiss on the lips. Then she pulled back and walked to the front door.

"Where are you going?" Santana asked.

"I'm going to get the car these guys came in. I'm going to pull it around the alley and put the bodies in the back. Then I'll drive the car and dump it somewhere on the south side." Quinn looked at Santana and then said, "And then I'm going to find Mitchell and Marano, and I'm going to kill them, too." She looked at Santana for another moment. In the far distance she heard a siren. Someone must have heard the shots and called the police. Quinn looked at Santana and said, "We can leave the man you shot here, if you want. You can tell the cops that he broke in, and that you had to shoot him. That will explain the shots and the shouting in the apartment. They'll believe you. You're in your own home, and he's a gang member, and you're a law enforcement officer. If they don't believe you, get Hudson involved. He'll vouch for you."

Santana looked at Quinn for a moment. Part of her wanted to pull her gun on Quinn and turn her in, to reign her in before she went ballistic again, to tell her that there was something wrong with her and that she needed help, but part of her was glad that Quinn had just reduced the world's criminal population by four, as grisly as she had done it. Underneath it all, it was true - Quinn had saved her life. She thought for a moment and then nodded her head. Quinn was right. They had to make it look real enough to provide a plausible explanation, at least for now. Quinn and Santana dragged the body of the man who Santana had shot back to the middle of the living room, right where he had fallen, then Quinn took a gun out of the gym bag and put it in his hands. It was sloppy, Quinn and Santana both thought, and Santana knew that Finn probably wouldn't buy it, but it would at least pass for now, until the fingerprint and other lab tests came back. Then she would have to hope that Finn would help cover for her. Quinn went out the door, and Santana just stood there.

Quinn came back ninety seconds later. She loaded Sosa's body and the two other bodies minus the body of the man that Santana had shot into the car, then came up for one last look around and grabbed her wedges. The sirens were getting nearer. She put her shoes on and then looked at Santana. Santana stared at her for a moment and then said, "You're out of control, Quinn", Santana said. "The law-"

"You're welcome", Quinn cut her off, and then walked out the door, closing it behind her.

Santana stood there, staring at the door for another moment. She heard a police car screech to a halt outside, and then she found her phone and called Finn.


	15. Chapter 15

Hi all, here is another chapter. This may be the last one for a few days, since I'm off computer for Easter and am busy at work the day after. Thanks so much as always, and I hope you are enjoying the story.

Chapter 15

Finn arrived at Santana's ten minutes after the first police car had arrived. Santana walked him through what had happened. She had been dozing in her bed when she heard someone trying to break into her place. She had grabbed her gun and had hid in her bedroom. She had heard the intruder open her front door and come into her living room, then she had turned on the lights and yelled "Freeze!" The man had gone for his gun, and Santana had been forced to fire in self-defense, hitting the man in the shoulder. The man had gone down, but he had tried to fire again so Santana had reacted, again in self-defense, this time hitting the man in the temple. She had stood there in shock for a few minutes, then had heard the sirens, and that's when she had called Finn. Finn wasn't convinced that was the whole story, and made a note to dig deeper later, but he took Santana's statement, more as a formality than anything else. Then Santana had called Puck and Schuester while the police crime scene unit went through Santana's apartment.

Now, Santana, Puck, Finn and Schuester were all in Schuester's office. It was 9am the next day.

"So the Disciples sent a man to Santana's apartment", Finn opened up with what he already knew so they could brief Schuester and Puck.

"For what?" Puck asked.

"I don't know", Santana said. "Maybe to scare me, to make sure we hadn't found out about their meeting with the Maranos, or if we had, that we weren't going to drop in." She shrugged her shoulders.

"And, get this: three more Disciple bodies were found on the south side earlier this morning", Finn said.

"What?" Schuester said.

"They were found in a car registered to one of them. Two were stuffed in the trunk. One was in the back seat."

"Jesus", Schuster said. "How did they die?"

"One had a crushed windpipe, along with a broken hand", Finn reported. "Another had his neck snapped, along with a broken kneecap, a ruptured groin, and fractured skull. And, get this - Felipe Sosa was the third body."

"What?" Schuester said again and stood up from his desk.

"Yeah. He was shot in the head at close range. He also had a broken hand, a broken arm, and a broken kneecap", Finn said.

"Jesus", Schuester said. "Crushed windpipe? Neck snapped? Shot in the head at close range? Broken bones everywhere? What the hell is going on? Are you telling me that someone took out two guys by hand, then crippled Felipe Sosa and then shot him at point blank range?" he asked, incredulous.

"That's what it seems like", Finn said.

"Well, who the hell did this?" Schuester demanded.

"We don't know", Finn said, "but the wounds indicate a professional carried this out. Especially the crushed windpipe and the neck snap. Very few people can do that. It's the kind of stuff they only teach in elite military units. Like the Army Special Forces", Finn said and looked at Santana.

"Wait", Schuester said, "Is it possible that this damn sniper did these guys? Maybe this sniper is ex-military? Army Special Forces? Is he now taking people out by hand and close-up shots to the head too?"

"We don't know", Finn said again. "Again - it could be a she." He shot Santana another look.

Schuester was silent for a minute and then said, "Well, I'm glad you're alright, Lopez. Way to take care of yourself. I'd give you the day off, but we're too close to this meeting. So, hang tough. Everyone – stay on task for the meeting. I want to review the tactical briefing tomorrow."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"So, what the fuck happened?"

Kody Mitchell was sitting at table in a bar called Stones, on the near west side of Chicago. Flanking him on either side were Dominik Lancaster and Terrell Jackson. Across the table from Kody was Scout, the man who Quinn had shot from Santana's balcony. The bodies of Felipe Sosa and two of the three men he had brought with him to Santana's apartment had been found earlier today. The body of the fourth man had been found at the JOCT bitch's apartment. Now, Scout was giving his report of what happened at that apartment to Kody Mitchell. He was nervous, and rightfully so.

"So, I was there, in the second car. Felipe and the boys went up to the bitch's crib, and then I see a light go on, and then I hear a gunshot. Then, like, thirty seconds later, I hear two more gunshots. So I get out of the car, and I shout up to the apartment, and then I see the woman come out. And then I see her raise her arm, and she fucking shoots me in the damn arm! So I high tail it back to the car, and she shoots at me again, and she misses, and then she shoots at me again while I'm startin' the engine, and the rear driver's side window explodes, and then I took off."

Kody looked concerned. He wasn't concerned that Scout had been shot in the arm, but something else was bothering him. "Wait – you said the woman shot you in the arm. Where were you parked?"

"Across the street and a few houses down."

"So, you were like several hundred feet away", Kody said, in a statement that was more of a question.

"Yeah, I guess so", Scout said.

"And the woman, she scored a shot on you, a moving target, that far away?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"At night? With a handgun?"

"I guess. I mean, it wasn't like a rifle or anything."

"Damn." Kody said and thought for a moment.

"Bitch is a good shot", Dominik said. He was a good shot himself. He had risen through the gang ranks by being the go-to drive-by shooter for years until he was promoted to management. He could reliably hit moving targets with a 9MM up to a hundred and fifty feet. But several hundred feet…damn...

"Alright", Kody said to Scout, then took out his gun and pointed it right at Scout. Scout froze, and Kody said, "Don't ever run again." He kept the gun pointed at Scout for another minute and then said, "Now get outta here." Scout got up and left as quickly as he could.

"I thought you were gonna waste him", Dominik said. A Disciple never runs.

"We can still use him", Kody said.

"What I want to know is, how the fuck did that federal bitch take out Felipe and the rest of his boys, and then score a shot on Scout from that far away as he was running for the car?" Terrell asked as Kody put away his gun.

"She didn't", Kody said, as he got up and started pacing. It wasn't the JOCT woman. There's no fucking way that bitch would have taken out four large, mean gangstas by herself, and then been able to hit Scout in the arm from several hundred feet away as he fled the scene. I would have had trouble taking out Felipe and his three boys, Kody thought, and there's not many people who can make a shot like that, several hundred feet away on a moving target with a fucking handgun. Dominik can't even make that shot, and he's the best shooter I know, Kody thought. And then there was the fact that Felipe and the two other bodies had been taken out by someone who knew how to execute with his- or her- hands. Crushed windpipe. Neck snapped. Broken arms and legs and hands, and then the single shot to Felipe, point-blank in the face. This was not the work of some federal agent. This was the work of a professional killer. Maybe the same muthafucker that had shot Cruz, Chen and Williams outside of Mother's. Sniper…crack shot…hand to hand combat skills...Yeah, this was a military trained soldier. Probably some kind of Special Ops. And Scout had said the woman had fired at him. Well I'll be damned, Kody thought. "This was not the work of the federal bitch", Kody said. "She had help. It was the sniper", he said to his men.

"Wait – are you sayin' that the feds are working with the sniper?" Terrell felt an involuntary shiver.

"I don't know", Kody said, "but the federal bitch knows the sniper, somehow. And that sniper was there, at the apartment last night. And apparently, the sniper is a woman."

"What?! Another bitch?" Dominik said. "Jesus". Bitches were ruining the world, man.

Kody thought for a minute. There was a connection here…he was about to make it…he thought some more..and…and…and there it was. He said, "I know what to do. I need to talk to old man Marano. Tell him the meeting at the Park Warehouse is off. We're canceling it, for both of ours safety. Set up another meeting. A small meeting. Set it up quick, and keep it on the real DL. Just the top dogs. I got a plan."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Quinn was siting in her tub, head back, thinking. After she had left Santana's, she had driven the tainted car to the Ridge Park neighborhood in the south side of Chicago. She had left it in a parking lot near an abandoned factory and then ran towards the nearest L station. It had taken her an hour to get back home. She had slept for a few hours but had woken up, thinking about Santana. It was weird – on the one hand, she had been so frustrated with Santana, and why Santana felt such a need to follow rules and laws, in such an emergency situation. But, at the same time, Santana had been right. I hadn't needed to kill Felipe and the other man still alive, Quinn thought. I could have taken the two other bodies and let Santana take them in. I had let my emotions get the best of me, especially after I saw the contents of the gym bag, and I just lost it. Maybe I should have apologized to Santana right then and there, Quinn thought. But she hadn't. She had been in survival mode, the mode that had saved her and so many of her Special Forces team mates so many times during the course of her six-year run in the service. It was like being in the field. You do what you have to do. Plus, she had still been a bit incredulous about Santana being such a stickler for following the law even in a situation like that. Then Quinn thought about Santana, and how she looked at Quinn after Quinn had killed the four men. She thinks I'm fucking nuts, Quinn thought. She's probably thinking that there's no way she can be with someone like me. Thinking about that made Quinn sad, and she slid down in her tub and submerged her face under the water, as if to wash away the tears that might come.

Quinn got out of the tub, dried off and put on a pair of jeans and a shirt. She picked up her phone. It was 1pm. She wanted to talk with Santana. She was hoping that Santana would have called her by now, but her phone hadn't rang all morning. She had called Santana's cell at 11am, but Santana hadn't picked up. She thought about calling Santana's office line, since she figured she may have a better chance of catching her there, but she knew that would be too risky, especially with what happened last night. I hope she calls me, Quinn thought, and then another thought came into her mind. What if she doesn't call me? What if I crossed the line last night? An I truly out of control? What if she doesn't want to be with me anymore? That thought made her sad, and she thought, who am I? Am I just an avenger? Is that all I am? Do I not belong in normal society? Am I incapable of having a normal romantic relationship? Maybe I need help. And, what good is avenging the love I lost when my parents were killed, if I'm so consumed by vengeance that I can't keep a love to replace it? Quinn's thoughts started to spin in her head, and she thought, I have to get her back. I need Santana in my life. Quinn felt strongly about that, maybe more strongly than she had ever felt about anything. That's why she had surveyed Santana outside of Mother's, and followed Santana to Marangos, and why she had arranged the meeting with Santana on that side street, even at the risk of Santana actually arresting her and bringing her in. She had bluffed with Santana about the feds not being able to find out who she was. If Santana had arrested her, they would have found out one way or another. But, she had been so drawn to Santana that she rolled the dice, gambling that Santana would be too intrigued and hopefully attracted to her to not bring her in, that she would see the good in Quinn, and understand the good she was going, and be able to look the other way at the fact that, yes, Quinn was breaking the law by killing criminals.

Sometimes, Quinn thought, there is someone in this world, who you just…well, you just have to be with. I can't explain it, she thought, but I've got to find a way to talk with her without putting her in suspicion or jeopardy.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Santana was sitting at her desk, drafting up the tactical plan for the meeting. She was still processing what had happened last night, but as the initial shock had worn off, she had found herself thinking more and more about herself being with Quinn. There were so many wonderful things about Quinn. She was smart, beautiful, caring, talented…in more ways than one. But, seeing her last night had been…well, eye-opening, was the only term she could think of for it right now. It was like, sometimes you just don't know, until you go. I know Quinn's not a Girl Scout, Santana thought. I know she's ex-Army Special Forces. I know she's killed at least five people in the last week and a half using a high-powered rifle at long distances. But, seeing her up-close as she brutally dismantled four people…well, it's one thing to know that someone is sniper, but it's another thing to see violence right in front of you like that. Especially from the woman you're falling for, Santana thought. And, I know she did it to protect me, and I'm grateful. I truly am, and she has to know that. And part of Santana saw the value in being able to operate the way that Quinn did. But, to see her lose control like that and just tear those guys apart, with no regard for law and procedure, was just-

"Lopez!" Puck barged into Santana's office, shaking her out of her thoughts. "Get down to Schuester's office right now."

"What's going on?" Santana said, as she rose from her desk.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"The meeting between the Maranos and the Disciples has been cancelled", Finn said.

"What!?" Schuester said, incredulous. He was already standing. Bad sign, Santana thought.

"I got the tip from a source", Finn said. "Kody Mitchell found out about Felipe Sosa and his boys."

"What?!" Schuester said again. His eyes bulged out of his head. "They cancelled?"

"Yup, that's our latest intel", Puck said.

Schuester was quiet for a moment, and then addressed the room. "So, let me get this straight. Lopez gets attacked in her home by a single Disciple, which is weird, because they usually travel in packs. Then, some other mystery person, maybe this damn sniper, Special Forces, whatever, takes out three more Disciples, the first two guys by hand, and a point-blank shot to the head of the lieutenant, and then piles their bodies into one of their own cars and dumps it on the south side? And now the meeting is cancelled?" Schuester was growing irate.

"Yeah, afraid so", Finn said.

"Can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?" Schuester raised his voice. Santana, Puck and Finn remained silent.

"Fuck!" Schuester yelled, and pounded his fist onto his desk. "We'll never get another meeting like that again." Santana, Puck and Finn remained quiet, while Schuester ran his palms through his hair. He stood there, seething for another moment, and then said, "Alright, listen up. If another meeting is scheduled, I want to know about it ASAP. In the meantime, I want you guys to find this damn sniper, Special Forces, whoever-the-fuck this person is, and bring him, her, whatever, in. Until we get word of another meeting, that is your number one priority. Got it?"

Santana, Puck, and Finn all nodded.

"Now get out of my office", Schuester said, and pointed towards the door.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Giusseppe Marano sat at a table in Volare, his favorite restaurant, located in a small Italian enclave called La Grangia, near Little Italy. Next to him were his son, Frankie, and Carmine Lippenzo, his new underboss. Across the table were the heads of his arch-rivals, the Disciples: Kody Mitchell, Dominik Lancaster, and Terrell Jackson. The Disciples had asked for this meeting. It was urgent, they had said. They had asked for principles only, and to show good faith, they had offered to come to the Marano family's territory. Frankie had offered up the suggestion to have them whacked once they arrived. Giusseppe had considered it briefly, but, seeing as how there was already someone out there, running around whacking everyone, regardless of which law-breaking team they played for, he figured that, unfortunately for now the best way to stay alive was to join forces with their rivals until they found this damn sniper and put a piano wire through his neck.

"Four of my guys got hit last night", Kody began. "One of them was Felipe Sosa. His body and two others were found dumped in a car this morning on the south side. The fourth body was found in the apartment of the JOCT agent in charge."

"How did this happen?" Giusseppe asked, his eyes narrowing.

"We sent some guys over to her apartment", Kody said.

"And why the hell did you do that?" Frankie asked.

"In case she knew we were meeting, we wanted to send a message: don't show up." Kody explained.

"So, what happened? Did this JOCT woman take out four of your men all by herself?" Giusseppe asked. At that, Frankie chuckled, and Kody gave him a hard shut-the-fuck-up stare.

"No. It was someone else. Someone else was there with her, in her apartment." Kody leaned forward. "It was the same muthafucker who's been snipin' off our asses." He moved his finger back and forth between Giusseppe and himself. "Both of our asses."

"How do you know?" Carmine asked.

"Because whoever did this killed two of my men by hand. One had a crushed windpipe. The other one's neck was snapped. Felipe was crippled – broken leg, broken arm, and broken hand. Then, this muthafucker popped a cap in his head at point-blank range. Pigs don't do shit like that. This shit was done by someone else. Then," Kody kept going, "this muthafucker shot a fifth man that we had waiting outside the bitch's apartment. Scored an armshot with a 9MM from over two hundred feet away, while this dude was running for the car."

"So, what are you saying?" Giusseppe asked. He was getting impatient.

"I'm saying that this muthafucker is a professional killer. Most likely military. Probably special ops. Sniper-trained, hand to hand combat, probably good with explosives and all that other shit. And, dig this", he spread his hands, "it's a fuckin' woman."

"What?" Carmine said, incredulous.

"I said, it's a woman", Kody repeated himself. "My man outside said it was a woman who shot him."

"No, no way", Frankie said. "Ain't no broad alive that's that good. Your guys just blew it."

Dominik leaned forward and stared at Frankie. "I bet this bitch could kick _your_ ass, you scrawny, spaghetti eatin' muthafu-" Kody put his hand up, and Dominik silenced himself immediately. Frankie started to say something back, but Giuseppe cut him off.

"So, what do you propose?" Guisseppe asked, looking directly at Kody.

"We need to waste this sniper ASAFP. And the JOCT woman, as well as that damn FBI boy and fuckin' Finn Hudson". Kody and Finn had a long rivalry going back years, when Kody was making his way up the gang ranks and Finn was a cop on the beat. "I have a plan. We can draw them out, just them, and then waste them all."

"How?" Carmine asked.

"Let's meet again. Find a neutral territory and then get the word out on the street, that it's just us meeting." Kody motioned to just the six of them sitting at the table. "We put the word out right before we meet, and those three pigs will hear about it, but they won't have time to organize a large raid squad. They'll come alone, or with minimal backup, maybe just a few unis. We'll stack the place with soldiers, and when they come in, we'll waste the unis, and then grab Hudson, the FBI boy, and the JOCT woman."

"How do you know those three will come?" Frankie asked.

"What, are you fucking kidding me?" Kody looked at Frankie. This guy was a fucking idiot. In all of the criminal world, only in the mob could you actually inherit power. Everywhere else, you had to earn it. Kody couldn't wait until old man Marano kicked the bucket. Once that happened, it would only be a matter of time before he would dismantle the Marano family under Frankie's sure-to-be clueless leadership, and then he would control the city. "You think that JOCT bitch, the FBI boy and pig-face Hudson are going to skip the chance to try to net us if they hear that the six of us are meeting?"

"I would agree with Signor Mitchell", Giusseppe said, and Frankie rolled his eyes at his Papa actually agreeing with these colored people. "The police and the feds will come. But, how do you know the sniper will show up?"

"Because of the JOCT woman." Kody said.

"Like, they're working together?" Carmine asked.

"No", Kody said. He paused, and then revealed the connection he had made earlier. "It's personal."

"How do you know that?" Giusseppe asked.

"Because my boys went to the JOCT woman's apartment at 3am. They got there, and all the lights were out. Now, you tell me", Kody said as he leaned forward, "What kind of 'work' would the federal ho and this sniper bitch be doing at the federal ho's apartment _together at 3am with the lights out?_" He smiled.

Dominik and Terrell smiled as well. Giusseppe turned up the corners of his mouth as he thought about that. Carmine smiled as well and said, "Good point. I know there's only one kind of work I would be doing at 3am with the lights out." At that, even Frankie smiled, and in a landmark moment, for the first - and probably only - time in history, the head members of the two biggest rival criminal organizations in the city smiled together at the same time, at the same thing, sitting at the same table.

When Giusseppe's smile had cooled, he looked at Kody and said, "You're sure this sniper will show up?"

Kody nodded. "I'm sure. If she thinks that federal bitch is in trouble, she'll show up. And believe me, we gonna put that federal bitch in trouble. I'll put the fuckin' blowtorch to her, and she'll scream so loud that her sniping girlfriend will be able to hear her scream all the way in Wisconsin. Her, and that FBI boy, and pig-face Hudson. I'll fucking fry 'em all." Kody smiled again. "Believe me, that sniper bitch will show up. And when she does, we'll fuckin' waste 'em all."


	16. Chapter 16

Hi all, I'm back on it again. Here is another chapter. We're coming to the end. FYI I will post an epilogue after the regular story is finished.

Remember - Hollywood…action…popcorn.

I am busy at work this week but I will try to post a chapter every other day or so.

Thanks so much as always for reading and for the feedback.

Chapter 16

Santana was sitting in her office. She was looking at the phone number on the note that Quinn had left her the morning after she had slept over, and she was debating whether or not to call it. Quinn had called her cell again this morning, but Santana hadn't picked up. She was still thinking things over. She really did like Quinn, and again, there were so many wonderful things about her, but she still wasn't sure how she felt about balancing all of those wonderful things with what she had seen the night before last. She had told herself that she wouldn't think about Quinn until after the raid, but now that the meeting between the Maranos and the Disciples was off, she was thinking about calling her and talking things out. I just don't know what to do, she thought. I should just call her. Maybe just talking with her, or even seeing her in person, will help me make a decision on what to do, or how I feel. I'll call her tonight, after work, Santana thought. I guess what I really need to do is figure out for myself if I can deal with the fact that I know she can operate like that with no regard for the law-

"Hey." Lopez heard the voice and a knock on her door. She looked up and Saw Finn. "Got a minute?"

"Yeah, sure", Santana said. "Come on in." Finn came in and closed the door. "What's up?"

"Talk to me", Finn said.

"About what?"

"Talk to me about this sniper." Finn took a seat on the other side of Santana's desk and looked Santana in the eye. "Look, I know you know who she is. I know you've seen her, and, I've got the gut feeling that somehow you know her better than you've been letting on." Santana was silent, so Finn continued. "Now, I don't care what you guys have going on, law or no law, but after the shit that went down two nights ago in your apartment, and after finding Felipe Sosa and his men in that car, this whole thing is about to get a lot more dangerous. So, I need to know everything about everything regarding this whole situation. So, if you have anything I should know, you need to tell me now." Finn leaned forward and put his elbows on Santana's desk. "No more fucking games, Lopez. Our lives could be on the line."

Santana looked at Finn for a moment. Then she looked down, exhaled, and then looked back up at Finn. "I know the sniper."

Finn stared at Santana for a moment, and then said, "Tell me about it." Finn sat and listened as Santana told him about she had met the sniper, Quinn Fabray, outside of Marangos, how she had gone on a date with Quinn, how she had felt herself falling for Quinn, how Quinn had surprised Santana by breaking into her apartment and making dinner, how Quinn had spent the night, how Quinn had come over the next night, the night the Disciples had shown up, how Quinn had woken her up right before they had entered Santana's apartment, and then how Quinn had exploded into action.

"So, the sniper – Quinn – is ex-Army Special Forces, and it was her who took out the four Disciples in your apartment?"

"Well, I did shoot one of the guys in the shoulder. But yes, Quinn took out the rest of them. And then she finished off the guy I shot in the shoulder with a point-blank shot to the temple. Also", Santana said, "There was a fifth man, outside. He called up from the street for Sosa when he heard the shots. Quinn went out onto the balcony and took a few shots him. He started running away, for his car across the street. He drove off, but I think Quinn might have hit him."

"She shot him from your balcony? As he was running away?"

"Yeah."

"With what?"

"My piece. It was the only gun that either of us used that night", Santana said.

"Your 9MM?"

"Yeah."

"Damn. Nice shot." Finn was silent fort a moment and then said, "So, where Quinn she now?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked with her since she left my apartment, like 36 hours ago."

"Why not?"

"Because…" Santana trailed off.

"Because what?" Finn asked.

""Because…I don't know…I was…unnerved…seeing her take out four guys by hand and close-up shots to the head."

"Hmmm", Finn said. He appeared to be thinking for a moment. "And why haven't you tell me about you and her already?"

"Why?" Santana asked. "Because I figured you'd haul me in for harboring a suspect. Or at the very least you'd be really pissed."

"Lopez – you're the one who's the by-the-book stiff. You know I personally didn't care if she takes out every single one of the Marano family and the Disciples. I pretty much said that in the meeting with Schuester. You know how bad I want these guys, and honestly, I don't care if they end up behind bars or under six feet of dirt. But, we should at least know what Quinn's up to. The last thing we want is for her to pop up at some operation we're running, and have her somehow be involved in the killing or wounding some of our men."

"She wouldn't shoot any of our men." Santana defended Quinn.

"Right, but if we're running an operation, and she shows up and starts picking off bad guys, the other side might panic and start opening fire, shooting anyone that moves."

"Okay. I get that."

"Look - talk to her. You know my position now. I need to know what she's planning before we figure out what we're going to do next, so we can let her know whether or not to show up."

"Okay, I'll call her, but she may not listen to me", Santana said. "In case you haven't noticed, she kind of does what she wants."

Finn stood up. "Well, if your relationship is as you say it is, I'm sure she'll at least hear you out." He looked at Santana for a moment and then walked out of her office.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Quinn was sitting in her car, parked just outside the federal building. She had called Santana's cell again earlier this morning, but Santana hadn't answered. Right about now, Quinn was debating just going inside the building and walking into Santana's office, just so she could see her. She would talk with Santana and her partners and Schuester and come clean. Maybe that would smooth things over with Santana? Quinn thought. Santana would then turn her in and then maybe go to bat for her. Maybe she could make something work, and then we could be together? It sounds like a movie ending, Quinn thought, but I just can't help thinking like that. Earlier in the day, Quinn had hacked into the JOCT database again. She had been looking at Santana's profile, especially her picture, and then had looked in her notes and noticed that the Marano/Disciple meeting had been called off by the Disciples. Santana had been right. They had called it off, and they had called it off because Quinn hadn't done the smart thing. Thinking back on it, what Quinn should have done was to wake Santana and hustled her down the fire escape out the back. The Disciples would have come in and found the apartment empty. They would have carried on with their meeting, and then Quinn could have showed up and killed them all. Now, they were spooked. Who knows when they'll meet again? Yes, Quinn thought, I let my emotions get the best of me. I was angry that they were going to hurt the woman I am falling for, as anyone would have been, but the professional in me should have thought it through and taken the smarter route.

Quinn sat in her car thinking, continuing to think. What to do? Should I just go home, or should I go up?

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Kody Mitchell arrived at the destination for their newly scheduled meeting. With him were Dominik, Terrell, and fifty of their street soldiers. The Maranos were on their way over now. Once they were set, Kody would have Scout put the word on the street that they were meeting. Scout knew people who would make sure that Hudson got the word quickly. He and the federal bitch and the punk at the FBI would rush over so as not to miss them, with a minuscule amount of backup. The combined Disciple and Marano army would shoot the unis and then grab the three pigs and start putting the hurt on them. The sniper bitch would come running, and then they'd waste 'em all. Terrell's men were already lacing the warehouse with gasoline. After they killed the pigs and the sniper, they would torch the warehouse. No survivors. Lots of fried bacon. And that would be that.

Kody Mitchell heard the warehouse gate open. He looked over and saw a dozen black vehicles roll in, and he smiled. Soon, they would be rid of the pigs and the sniper. And then, soon after that, he would be rid of the Marano family. And then he would own the city.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Santana was sitting in her office. It was a bit past 8pm. She was partly finishing up some paper work, and partly stalling on going home, because she had told herself she was going to call Quinn when she got home, and she was still unsure of exactly what she was feeling, what to say or how to say it. She was sitting there, devoting half of her brain to each task, when Finn and Puck barged in.

"Lopez", Finn started. "We got word on another meeting."

"What? Already?" Lopez said.

"Yup. I just got the lead from a CI. The Maranos and the Disciples are meeting at the warehouse on Clinton Street, near Chinatown in thirty minutes."

"That's not enough time to organize a raid party", Santana said.

"We won't need one", Finn said. "It's just the heads – Giusseppi and Frankie Marano, Lippenzo, and Mitchell, Lancaster and Jackson. Maybe a few bodyguards. I'll call in some unis to back us up."

"Just the six of them? And maybe some body guards?" Santana asked. "Why are they meeting at a warehouse if it's that few of them?" Something didn't feel right to her.

"Who knows", Finn said. "They move around all the time. Maybe they figured they'd meet there because they figured we wouldn't be looking there for a small meeting."

"Okay", Santana said. "I'll let Schuester know we're moving."

"There's no time", Puck said. We just walked past his office. He's not here. We gotta move now. We can call him when we're en route."

"Guys – hold up", Santana said and then thought for a moment. "Something doesn't feel right. Every time these two parties have met before, they've always taken time to set it up, and then it's taken us time to find out about. How is it that we found out about this one so quickly?"

"Like I said, a CI of mine called it in. He says it's hot", Finn said.

"I don't know", Santana said, unsure. "It kind of feels like…like they leaked it to us…or something..." she trailed off.

"Why would they do that?" Finn asked.

"Maybe the guy that Quinn shot who got away said something?" Santana brought up.

"Like what?" Puck said. Finn had filled Puck in on what Santana had said about Quinn.

"Maybe he saw Quinn. Maybe he said something to Mitchell. Maybe Mitchell somehow put it together that whoever shot at their man who got away is the sniper who's been killing all of them off", Santana said.

"Too dark", Finn said. "All he would have seen was a silhouette. There's no way he would have been able to tell who shot at him. As far as he knows, you killed Sosa and his the henchmen, and then shot at him, and he barely got away with his life."

"So, I shot him with a 9MM from my balcony as he was halfway down the street, running? I'm not that good of a shot. Most people aren't." Something was bothering Santana, but she couldn't put her finger on it. How did Finn find out about this meeting so quickly? Why did they find out so close to the meeting time? And, if the Maranos and the Disciples leaked it, what reason would they have for doing so? Santana sat there for a moment, thinking, and then said, "Guys, look – I've got an uneasy feeling about this. I mean, I want these guys as bad as you do, but…it's like, we're charging into this, a meeting that we just learned about, and it's supposedly a small meeting but being held at a large warehouse. It just feels like we're being set up."

"Why would they be trying to set us up now? What's the point now, as opposed to any other time?" Puck asked.

Santana couldn't quite put it together, but the whole thing just felt…wrong. Is it possible that, somehow, Mitchell or Marano put it together that the sniper was over at my place, and that somehow, I'm connected to the sniper? Mitchell and old man Marano are smart, Santana thought. They're assholes, but they're smart.

"Guys, if we're going to do this, we need to move now", Finn said, checking his clip.

"Finn – hold on. I'm nervous about not having enough backup-"

"We gotta go now. I want to be set up and in place before they arrive. We can pull unis from the 18th precinct right near Chinatown. They can provide enough backup, if it's just the leadership plus a few guards", Finn said, already heading out the door. "C'mon – we can't miss this opportunity. We don't know when they'll meet again."

Puck turned to leave as well. "I agree. We can't risk missing this opportunity. We'll pull as much backup as we can on the way. Let's go."

Santana rose from her chair. Something just didn't feel right. She grabbed her jacket and was about to follow the guys out, when the note from Quinn that was on her desk caught her eye. A troubling thought crossed her mind, and she stared for a second.

"Lopez! We need to move. Now!" Finn called from down the hall.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Santana, Finn, Puck and twelve unformed police officers were parked half a block away from the warehouse. From where they were they had a good view of the front of the warehouse facing Clinton Street, with large rolling warehouse vehicle doors, and the side entrance on Canal Street. More backup was on the way. Santana had convinced Finn to stop by the 18th precinct to brief the watch commander and pull some backup to roll with them. Finn had argued against that, since he didn't want to lose time, but Santana had insisted. The whole thing just didn't feel right to her. The troubling thought that she'd had, that this meeting had been set up to trap her, and thereby get to Quinn, was far fetched, but it was possible. She also knew that, if she was right, that they would be severely outnumbered.

"Alright", Finn began. "We approach the warehouse, enter through the side door on Canal Street, and then spread out once we're inside. If they move, we take them. Otherwise we wait for backup to arrive."

"I don't see any cars", Santana said. There were no cars outside on the street or in the gravel parking lot.

"They may all be inside the warehouse", Puck said.

"Maybe", Santana acknowledged. "Makes it tough to figure out how many people are here."

"My source says it's a small meeting", Finn reminded her. "Plus, it would have been tough to organize anything larger in such a short period of time." He looked at Santana, Puck and the uniformed police officers. "Alright – let's move." They moved towards the warehouse, guns drawn, and approached the side entrance on Canal Street. Finn checked the door. It was unlocked. He pulled it open and the team filed in, Santana in the lead. It was dark inside the warehouse, except for a faint light at the far end. Santana looked around. As far as she could tell, the warehouse consisted of a main big area, and what looked to be some smaller rooms and maybe hallways on the outside perimeter. As Santana's eyes adjusted to the dimness, she started to make out shapes, and her heart stopped. Cars. There were lots of cars. Lots of cars meant…

Finn caught up to Santana. Santana tapped him and motioned him back.

"We gotta get outta here, now", Santana hissed as the group huddled together. "There's like two dozen cars here."

"That could be a hundred men", Puck said, doing the math.

Santana's blood ran cold. "It's a fucking trap, Finn. Your CI set us up."

Finn cursed silently and thought for a second. "Alright, let's get back outside, and wait for back-" He was about to say 'backup', when he was interrupted by a female scream. It came from the direction of the light at the back of the warehouse.

Santana looked up, and her face froze. "Oh my God", she said.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Fuck", Quinn screamed. She was standing in a room in the warehouse. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling. Her weapons were on a table ten feet away. Her hands were duct taped behind her back. Around her were six Disciples. Two of them were holding her, one on each arm. The head of these six had just pushed the business end of a switchblade half an inch into her stomach.

Quinn had been at home twenty six minutes ago working on her laptop when she had received a text. She looked at her phone. It was Santana. She was hoping Santana was texting her to arrange a time to talk. Instead, her text said:

_We just found out another mtg has been set up w Disciples n Maranos. Warehouse on Clinton near Chinatown. We r leaving from JOCT HQ ASAP. I have a bad feeling about this. Finn says the meeting is small, but for some reason it feels wrong. Not sure why. We r going to check it out without much backup. We could use r help but pls b careful if u join us._

Quinn read that and had sprung off her chair. It sounded like a setup, and it sounded like Mitchell or Marano had somehow figured out that Santana knew Quinn and was possibly trying to set a trap that included ensnaring Santana as bait to lure Quinn to the warehouse. Quinn though about all of this, but still, she had to go. She couldn't let Santana and her team walk into that. They wouldn't have time to assemble a raid team on that short notice, and if it was a trap, then they would be outnumbered. She had donned her black tactical outfit, grabbed her rifle, her 9MM, and her tactical knife. She had sped over to the warehouse and had parked a block away. She had grabbed her gear and had crept towards the warehouse. She had seen the main entrance on Clinton, with the large rolling warehouse vehicle doors, and the side entrance on Canal, and had headed towards the side entrance. There had been a man patrolling the outside, and Quinn had dispatched him with a silenced shot to the head and then dumped his body in the bushes nearby. She had opened the side door and had crept in. She had seen the light at the far end of the dark warehouse, and she had started towards it, when her eyes adjusted to the dark and she registered that there were at least two dozen cars in the warehouse. An alarm immediately went off in her head, and she started to back out, when all of a sudden all around her car doors opened, and men started to pour out. She took aim and fired, killing half a dozen men, but there were too many, coming from all directions. Someone hit her from behind, and she went down. What felt like 2000 pounds of human put their weight on top of her. Her wrists were duct taped behind her back, and she was hauled to her feet. Someone shoved a gun into her temple, but a voice said, "No – we're taking her to Mitchell and Marano", and she was roughly shoved towards the light. She had been careless. She had been worried about Santana and had charged right in without properly assessing the situation. Now, she was standing in this room with blood seeping from a stab wound to her stomach. It hurt like hell. She could tell they weren't trying to kill her. At least not just yet. They were just trying to hurt her. It was working.

"How's that feel, bitch?" Dominik Lancaster said, as he smiled and squeezed Quinn's cheeks?"

"Why don't you untie me, you fuckin' pussy, and fight me like a man?" Quinn said. "What, are you scared of me? Afraid I'll kick the shit outta you, like I kicked the shit outta Felipe and his three buddies?"

Dominik smiled. This bitch had cajones. He liked that. That made it that much more enjoyable. "I don't think so", he said, and then stabbed her again. Quinn screamed again. "How'd that one feel?" He said, as he stroked her hair.

"I didn't feel a fuckin' thing", Quinn said, gritting her teeth.

"Well, good. Cause that's what you'll be feeling all night long, bitch", Dominik said. He smiled and was waving his switchblade in front of Quinn's face, when a menacing baritone voice said, "D – chill out." Dominik backed up. Quinn looked up.

"Wait – that's not the JOCT woman", Frankie Marano said, as he walked in the room. Giusseppe, Carmine, and their bodyguards were with him.

"No, it's not", said Kody Mitchell, as he walked in another doorway, along with four other Disciples. He looked at Quinn and smiled. "That's the muthafuckin' sniper."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Oh my God – that's Quinn", Santana said her face in horror.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Puck asked.

Finn looked at Santana.

"I…told her we were coming", Santana said.

"Jesus", Finn said.

"I was worried we would be outnumbered, the way this whole thing came together", Santana said. "I thought we could use her help. You said it yourself, Finn. You don't care if these guys end up behind bars or under six feet or dirt."

"Well, it looks like they got her first", Finn said.

"We have to go save her", Santana said. This is my fault, she thought. Quinn is here because of me. Santana knew the meeting could have been a trap to get Quinn, but they needed her help. She had argued with Finn to stop at the 18th precinct to talk with the watch commander and get backup, because she was afraid they would be outnumbered. She also wanted to give Quinn enough time to get down here from wherever she was. Santana knew that Quinn would come if she texted her. Now, somehow, they had nabbed Quinn and were putting the hurt on her. Santana shuddered at the thought.

"We need to wait for backup before we go charging in there", Puck said.

"No, we can't!" Santana hissed. "They may kill her before backup arrives!" She started to walk towards the light.

"Lopez, wait-" Finn said, but Santana was already off. "Shit!" Finn hissed. He pointed at Puck and six of the uniformed police officers. "You guys – come with me. The rest of you get outside, and you", he pointed to a uniformed police officer, "find out when backup is coming, and tell them to get here ASAP."

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"So, this is the fuckin' sniper bitch", Kody Mitchell said, as he walked in the room. He looked at Quinn and then said, "I'll be damned. She's as hot as the federal bitch." Laughter erupted.

"C'mon, Mitchell. You think you can take me? Untie my hands, and let's find out how tough you are." Quinn wasn't trying to be tough. She was trying to goad Kody into taking off her binds, and then, once she was free, she was going to lunge for the nearest gun and shoot her way out. She was hoping that Kody would buy into it, that he would feel as though his machismo was being tested and untie her, but he just smiled.

"Nah, I don't think so", Kody said. "You killed Sosa and his guys with your bare hands. I got no problem keeping your bitch ass tied up."

Giusseppe Marano stepped forward. In his hand was a piano wire. "And later, I'll be tying this around your neck", he said, stretching the wire.

"Fuck you, Marano", Quinn said, and then glared at him. "You killed my parents. I'll be killing you."

"Damn, you killed her parents?" Kody asked Marano. Marano shrugged his shoulders. He honestly couldn't remember who this woman's parents were, but that was no surprise. He'd ordered so many hits in his life, it was hard to keep track. Kody smiled. "No wonder she's pissed at you."

"And you threatened my girlfriend, asshole", Quinn said, glaring at Kody.

"What – the federal bitch?" Kody said, and then laughed. "Ha! I knew there was somethin' goin' on there."

"Where are the feds?" Giusseppe asked Quinn.

"Coming here with a SWAT team and a shitload of unis to arrest your asses. That is, if I don't kill you first", Quinn said. She actually didn't know where Santana and her team were, but she was hoping they were waiting for backup, and bringing lots of it.

Giusseppe looked at Kody. "The feds aren't here? I don't like this", he said. "I want to know where they are."

"It doesn't matter", Kody said. "The whole reason we set up this meeting is to get this bitch right here. And now that we got her", Kody said, "Let's get to work." He walked over to Quinn until her was standing right in front of her. "You're a pretty good shot", he said, and then punched her hard in the stomach. Quinn doubled over, and the room erupted in mean laughter again. "I wonder how good you'll shoot without any fingers". He smiled and was about to pull out a knife when the lights to the large open space in the warehouse went on. Kody chuckled and looked at Giusseppe. "Well, looks like the feds just joined the party."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Santana, Finn and six uniformed police officers were creeping up towards the light. It looked like it was coming from a room at the far side of the warehouse. They were nearing the room, and Santana motioned for them to stop. They ducked behind some cars and Santana peered over. She could see Quinn, about fifty feet away, standing in the middle of the room. Her back was turned towards them, but Santana could tell it was her. It looked like her hands were duct taped behind her back. Two large Disciples flanked her on either side, holding her arms. Santana could see Giusseppe and Frankie Marano, Carmine Lippenzo, and their bodyguards on one side of the room. Dominik Lancaster and a bunch of other Disciples stood on the other side, behind Kody Mitchell. Kody was standing in front of Quinn. He was talking and then punched Quinn in the stomach. Quinn doubled over and mean laughter erupted. Santana's heart lurched. She turned to Finn. "That' it – I'm going in", she said. She turned around and was about to charge in, when all of a sudden all of the lights went on. She put her hands to her eyes, blinded for a moment, and then looked up.

"Sup, pigs!" Terrell shouted. He was on the second floor, standing on a metal catwalk that surrounded the inside perimeter of the building. Forty armed Disciples were around him. "Kody, they here."

"Well, shit", Kody said. He stepped past Quinn, who was still recovering from the punch to her stomach, and stepped one foot into the main area of the warehouse. Giusseppe Marano followed him. He shouted something in Italian. Thirty emerged from the rooms along the perimeter of the warehouse, brandishing weapons.

"Pig face Hudson", Kody said with a smile.

"Agent Puckerman, and Special Agent Santana Lopez", Giusseppe said. At the mention of Santana's name, Quinn tried to turn around to look at her, but the two Disciples flanking her held her facing the other way.

"Let her go, Mitchell", Santana said, her gun trained on Kody.

Kody laughed. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He said.

"If you hurt her, I will-"

"You'll fuckin' do what!" Kody yelled. "Write me a fuckin' ticket? You muthafuckin' pigs!"

"Drop your weapons", Giusseppe said. The uniformed officers started to lower their weapons, but Pick, Finn and Santana kept theirs up and trained on Kody and Giusseppe.

"Let her go", Santana said again.

"Stop fuckin' frontin' like y'alls gonna shoot. Put down your fuckin' guns, or we gone light you up", Kody yelled again. All his humor was gone. He waited for a moment, and then turned around. He grabbed Quinn by the hair and hauled her over so Santana could see her. Santana looked at Quinn and gasped. She could see that Quinn was cut on her stomach. Someone had been stabbing her. Kody took out his switchblade and said, "I'm gonna count to three. And then I'm gonna carve this bitch up!"

Santana started to lower her gun, but Quinn shook her head.

"One…" Kody said. Santana's gun lowered a little more.

"Two…" Kody said, a little more menacingly. Quinn felt the tip of the knife against her stomach and braced herself for the pain. Santana looked into her eyes and felt sick. Then, she looked just to the right of Quinn, and saw Dominik Lancaster, holding a knife. The blade was stained with red. Dominick grinned at Santana and licked the blade.

"Th-" Kody was about to say three, when all of a sudden tires screeched on the outside of the warehouse. A voice came through a megaphone, "Attention! We've got the building surrounded!" At the same time, Santana, seeing Dominik grin at her, knew he was the one who had stabbed Quinn, and she lost control. She shifted her aim from Kody to Dominick and fired. She hit Dominik square in the head, and he went down. Then she took aim at Kody, but Quinn was right in front of him, so she aimed at Giusseppe and fired. She missed, and Giusseppe scrambled back into the room.

"Waste 'em!" Kody yelled as he let go of Quinn and backed up towards the door he came in from, and chaos erupted.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Finn, Santana, Puck and the uniformed police officers dove for cover behind some parked cars. They heard the door to the side entrance of the warehouse open and shouts as more police entered through. Bullets flew through the air.

"We gotta get over there!" Finn pointed to a car near the wall of the warehouse, then said, "Shit!", as a bullet struck the car right next to him, less than a foot away from his head. If they could make it over there, they would be shielded from the bullets raining down from above and also flying by them at ground level. Puck counted to three and then made a run for it.

"You guys go! I'm going for Quinn!" Santana yelled back.

"Lopez, no!" Finn yelled, but Santana was already on her way.

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As soon as Kody let her go, Quinn hit the ground, tucked her legs, pulled her hands underneath them and in front of her body, and then reached for Dominik's knife. She cut the tape on her wrists and then looked up. Giusseppe Marano, Frankie Marano, and Carmine Lippenzo were running for the door they came in, their bodyguards in tow. Still crouched, Quinn lunged at the nearest Disciple, one of the men that had been holding her while Dominik stabbed her, with Dominik's knife. The knife went through the man's leg, and as he screamed, Quinn grabbed his gun out of his hand with her free hand. She twisted the knife and then pulled the trigger twice, and then man went down. Quinn rose and thrusted the knife through the neck of the other man who had been holding her. Blood spurted everywhere, and he went down, the knife buried to the hilt in his neck. Quinn pivoted and opened fire on the remaining Disciples in the room while scrambled for the doorway that the Maranos had gone out of. She squeezed off four shots, and four bodies went down. She made it through the door and halfway down a hallway, then she stopped and paused. She grabbed her stomach and winced in pain. The wounds weren't life threatening, but she was losing some blood, and they hurt like hell. She closed her eyes and mentally put the pain somewhere else, then tried to listen through the gunfire. She heard shouting in Italian down a hall and she followed it. She rounded a corner and saw Giusseppe, Frankie and Carmine, along with four bodyguards, trying to force a door open. Quinn took aim and fired. Four shots, and four bodyguards went down. Giusseppe, Frankie, and Carmine whirled around.

"Holy sh-" Carmine started, but Quinn silenced him with a bullet between the eyes.

"Alright, hey, look, broad-" Frankie started, but Quinn silenced him as well with a shot between the eyes. Then she approached Giusseppe, who was trembling with fear. He fell to his knees as Quinn approached him.

"Look, just name your price", Giusseppe said. Quinn walked towards him. As she got near, she suddenly dropped the gun, grabbed Giusseppe by the back of his head and delivered a hard knee into his face. Giusseppe fell down, face first, onto the ground. Blood spurted from his broken nose. Quinn spun behind him and drove her knee into his back, driving him all the way down. Keeping the pressure on, she grabbed the piano wire from Giusseppe's hand and placed it around his neck.

"You killed my parents", Quinn said, as she dug her knee into Giusseppi's back. She wrapped the wire around his neck and and pulled it tight. Giusseppe struggled for a few seconds, then slumped to the ground, blood pouring out of his neck. "That's my price."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Santana had been making her way to the room where Quinn had been. She had seen Quinn drop, had looked away for a moment, and then looked back, and the next thing she saw was Quinn firing and scrambling through a door, leaving a bunch of dead bad guys behind her. Santana ran into the room, then went through the door where Quinn had exited. She heard a gasping, gurgling sound and followed it. She rounded a corner and stared. Frankie Marano, Carmine Lippenzo, and four other mobsters laid dead. They had all been shot. Still alive, but almost dead, was Giusseppe Marano. Around his neck was a piano wire. Quinn had pulled it so tight she head nearly guillotined his head off. He was bleeding profusely. "Jesus", Santana said, looking at him. She stared for a moment, and then the last of Giusseppe Marano's life went out. Santana stared at him for a moment longer as his body went lifeless, and then she moved on in search of Quinn.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Quinn slinked down a hallway. She was looking for Kody Mitchell. Kody Mitchell or Santana. She was hoping that they hadn't found each other first. This warehouse was bigger than I had thought, Quinn said to herself, as she slinked down the hallways, ducking into rooms. She was about to round a corner when she heard a voice behind her.

"Quinn!"

Quinn turned around to see Santana running up to her. "Oh my God", Santana said, as she saw Quinn. She hugged Quinn tight and kissed her on the lips. Quinn winced. Santana heard her and pulled back. Santana looked at her wounds and said, "Oh my God, are you alright?"

"I'm okay", Quinn said, wincing. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine…I'm fine". Santana said, as she stared at Quinn. Even having sustained stab wounds, Quinn was asking Santana is she was alright.

"How is your team?" Quinn asked.

"I don't know", Santana said. "I came to find you." Again, stab wounds and all, still concerned about my team, Santana thought.

Quinn looked at Santana with a quizzical look on her face. "Ditched your team to find me, huh? Sure you weren't breaking procedure?" she asked and then smiled slightly at Santana.

Santana smiled back. "You…you were in danger", she said. She paused and then said, "You're the most important thing to me."

"Above following the rules, huh?" Quinn jockeyed, and smiled slightly again.

Santana smiled and nodded. She went to hug Quinn, then remembered that Quinn was wounded, so she cupped Quinn's cheeks and kissed on the lips. They stayed locked for just a second, and then Quinn's Spidey Sense went off, and she pulled back.

"Where's Mitchell?" she asked.

"I don't know", Santana said.

"Right here, bitches", Kody Mitchell said, as he stepped around a corner. He took aim at Santana, who was closer and had her back towards Kody. Quinn saw his arm come up and spun herself and Santana around 180 degrees so she was in front of Santana with her back to Kody. Kody fired, and the bullet hit Quinn in the back of her left shoulder. Quinn screamed and slumped against Santana. At the same time, Santana's arm came up firing around Quinn, and she hit Kody in the chest. She fired again and hit him in the chest again. She fired again and hit him again, this time in the neck, and then she fired again. Her final shot hit Kody in the forehead, and he went down. Santana stumbled back as Quinn's weight slumped against her.

"Oh my God, Quinn", Santana said. She laid Quinn down on her back and knelt over her.

"I'm okay", Quinn said. "I'm okay. It fucking hurts, but I'm okay." Between the gunshot wound in the back and the knife wounds in the from, she couldn't find a comfortable position to lay. "Go", she said. "Find your team." Quinn reverted to her Special Forces mantra. The team comes first. "Go take care of your team."

"No", Santana said. She could hear the gunfire in the main room dying down. More cars were pulling up outside. Sirens were everywhere. She looked at Quinn, who shifted onto her right side. "I'm not leaving you, hon."

Quinn closed her eyes and tried to block out the pain, but she smiled ever so slightly. Even in her condition, she registered that Santana had called her 'hon'.

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"Well well well, Terrell Terrell Terrell", Finn said, as he saw Puck escorting a handcuffed Terrell Jackson out of the warehouse. There were cop cars everywhere, and officers and SWAT were rounding up Disciples and Maranos. "Quite a mess you guys created down here. Torture, murder, shooting at police officers…" Finn trailed off as he slammed Terrell face down onto the hood of a police cruiser.

"Fuck you, Hudson", Terrell said. "Your ass is dead, muthafucka!"

"I'm not so sure", Puck said. "I saw my partner take out Dominik. Maybe the sniper wiped out Mitchell and the Maranos. You may be the only one left."

"Yup", Fin agreed. "And judging by this mess, you'll be spending the rest of your days in the SHU down at Stateville."

"Either that, or we can send the sniper after him", Puck said to Finn.

"Man, fuck you guys", Terrell spat back, but with less conviction.

Finn smiled at Puck, then opened the door to the back seat of the cruiser and shoved Terrell in the back. "Take him", Finn said, and the cruiser sped off.

"Hudson. Puckerman." Finn and Puck looked up to see Schuester approaching. "What the hell happened here?"

"We got a tip on a meeting between the-" Finn began.

"I can't even begin to explai-" Puck interrupted.

"Where is Lopez?" Schuester demanded.

Finn and Puck both looked around. "I don't know", Finn said. "She went off running after the sni-" he was about to say "sniper" but Puck cut him off. He looked at Puck, who shrugged.

"Jesus", Schuester said, and walked off towards the warehouse.


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you for reading and for all of the feedback. Below is the epilogue for this story. Also, as I usually do, I will include some author's notes at the end.

Epilogue

"Hi hon, I'm here", Santana said softly. She leaned over the hospital bed and kissed Quinn lightly on the forehead. Quinn stirred and opened her eyes.

"Hi beautiful", Quinn said. She tried to move, but Santana stilled her.

"Don't move", Santana said. "Just rest." Santana pulled up a chair next to the bed and took Quinn's hand in hers.

After the fiasco at the warehouse had started to die down, as members of various law enforcement agencies we rounding up members of both the Marano family and the Disciples, several uniformed police officers had found Santana, huddled over Quinn. Quinn had been rushed by ambulance to Cook County hospital in downtown Chicago. Santana had intended to go with her, but Schuester had appeared as Quinn was being loaded into the ambulance and demanded to know what the hell had happened, so Santana hd sent two uniformed police officers to accompany Quinn, and then she, Finn, Puck and Schuester had gone back to Schuester's office. Santana had started from the beginning and told Schuester all about how she had met Quinn, how they had fallen for each other, how Quinn had saved her the night the Disciples had come to her apartment, and then how she had tapped Quinn to help with the meeting tonight, and the subsequent fallout from that. Schuester had listened at times and yelled at times. Finn had jumped in, defending Santana, and even Puck jumped in, but, after all of the talking, Schuester had told Finn and Puck to leave his office. He then had asked Santana for her badge and her gun. Santana had started to protest, but she knew that she had operated around official procedure, and Schuester was a by-the-book guy. Schuester had been apologetic, but he said he had to do it. With something this big, and with an outside party like Quinn having been involved, internal affairs would have to open an official investigation, he had said. He would put her on paid leave indefinitely, until the investigation was over. Santana had sighed and turned in her badge and gun, walked out of Schuester's office, and then had gone directly to Cook County hospital. Fortunately, the surgeons had been able to remove the bullet from Quinn's shoulder without much complication. They treated her knife wounds and stitched them up. Then they took her up to recovery and put her on a morphine drip. Santana had walked in shortly after.

Quinn's eyes fluttered, and she looked at Santana and smiled, then fell back asleep. Santana sat there, holding her hand.

_**3 Months Later**_

"And it is my pleasure to recognize Santana Lopez, for representing the highest ideals of commitment, service, and honor – the founding principles of the Joint Organized Crime Taskforce." The room erupted into applause as Santana stepped forward. Susan Sylvester, Director of JOCT, turned away from the podium to smile at Santana and hand her a medal, and then the two shook hands. They looked out into the audience as people rose from their seats and cameras flashed. Santana looked at the table to the front left. Finn was standing and applauding. He had been recognized himself by the Chicago Police Department for his efforts, and he was now heading up a special enforcement unit called the Strike Team. It was an anti-gang, anti-organized crime unit, modeled after the original Strike Team from the Farmington Police Division in Los Angeles. Puck was also standing and applauding. He would be recognized by the FBI next month. Schuester was standing as well. He had also been recognized, as Santana's supervising officer, and he had actually been the one who had largely taken care of the internal affairs investigation from Santana's side, as well as taken care of the press. Then, Santana looked and saw the golden blonde beauty that she was delighted to now call her girlfriend. Quinn was standing and applauding, and smiling proudly and radiantly. Santana looked at her and smiled even wider than she already was.

Quinn had been discharged from the hospital a week after the warehouse fiasco. Santana, on leave, had helped settle her back in to her condo. She had stayed with Quinn for three days straight, and then had gone back to her apartment to pack a suitcase. She had come back to Quinn's apartment and ended up staying for another month while Quinn recovered. Quinn had recovered slowly but surely. A week out of the hospital, she had been able to function around the condo all by herself. Two weeks after that, she and Santana had started going on walks and outings to restaurants and shops. Two weeks ago, Quinn had said she felt almost a hundred percent. Her left shoulder still hurt a bit, but besides that she was pretty much healed. A week ago, she and Santana had gone for a jog down the lake shore path. After their jog, they had come back to Quinn's, and after a long shower together, Santana had made them dinner. That night, Quinn had asked Santana if she would move in. Santana had said yes, and within a week, she had broken the lease on her apartment and had moved all of her belongings into Quinn's condo.

Right about the same time Quinn had been discharged from the hospital, an investigation had kicked off into the events that had lead up to the warehouse fiasco. Santana had been called in to attend a few hearings, as had Finn and Puck, but Schuester did most of the talking. As it turned out, Schuester, for all of his by-the-book tendencies, had really gone to bat for Santana. He had spun the story to Sylvester, and had not only gotten Santana reinstated, but he had put in a good word for her, enough of a good word to have Sylvester honor her at the JOCT annual awards banquet. Santana was back to being Special Agent Santana Lopez of the Joint Organized Crime Taskforce.

The one complication on Quinn and Santana's end had been Quinn's involvement. When Internal Affairs had opened the investigation, they had honed in on finding out about Quinn's background, and then had gone ballistic once they discovered she was a former Army Special Forces operator. Fortunately, by that time, Schuester had been able to speak with Sylvester, and Sylvester had spoken with Internal Affairs. She had let them know that Quinn had saved Santana's life, and that, despite having operated as a rogue assassin, there were ways in which she may be able to serve the government, and would therefore be more valuable out of prison than in it. Sylvester and Internal Affairs had met with Captain Allister, who had been the commanding officer of the Special Forces unit in which Quinn had served. Captain McAllister had spoken with General Flood, head of Army Special Forces, and the sides had come to an agreement that Quinn would avoid any trial or subsequent prison time, as long as she saw a mental health professional. Quinn had insisted that she was done assassinating criminals, but the deal was that she either visited a mental health professional or faced trial and most likely prison time. Santana pleaded with her to take the former. Quinn didn't think she needed help, but she acquiesced for Santana, and she started seeing a mental health professional once a week. Her counselor was recommended by the army and specialized in working with ex-military personnel, especially those who had served in elite units. Quinn found that, despite her initial resistance, it actually did feel good to talk with someone. She spoke with her counselor about her parents' mugging, their deaths, and how those had shaped her mindset and pushed her into the army. She talked about how she had harbored feelings of vengeance, and how she had enrolled in the Special Forces with the idea of someday avenging her parents' deaths. She talked about how she had met Santana, how she had fallen for her, and how she had killed four men right in front of her, and how she had felt when she had seen the look in Santana's eyes after she had done that. She talked about how she had wondered what she had become, and if she was unfit for life in the civilian world, and especially unfit to have a normal romantic relationship, which is what she really wanted. The counselor helped her through her thoughts, and Quinn felt like she was finally adjusting to life as a civilian, although she secretly told herself that, if she saw someone committing a crime against an innocent person, she couldn't promise that she wouldn't do anything.

**2 Years Later**

"Hi beautiful, how was your day?" Quinn asked Santana. Santana had just walked in the door from work. It was 9pm. Quinn was making dinner – homemade cheese ravioli with fennel sausage and a tomato and basil sauce.

"Ugh. Long", Santana said. "Sorry I'm getting home so late." Home was now a 2 bedroom condo in Lincoln Square. Quinn and Santana had bought it together a year ago. Quinn had sold her condo in Lincoln Park and had stopped renewing the leases on the other apartments she had been renting, since she no longer felt like she needed them anymore, now that she wasn't actively engaging in war against criminals. Their new condo was right near Le Chez, and Quinn and Santana would often walk there to have dinner.

"Baby - it's okay", Quinn said, understandingly. "Remember? I understand and support what you do."

Santana smiled. She remembered Quinn referencing something like that on their first date. She put down her bag, walked over to the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Quinn from behind. Quinn smiled, then leaned back and kissed Santana on the lips. "That smells wonderful, hon", Santana said.

"Thank you", Quinn said. "So, what's happening at work?"

"You know - the same", Santana said and sighed. She had been working on various cases involving new players in Chicago's criminal underworld. Since the demise of the heads of both the Marano family and the Chicago Disciples, new contenders had been vying for the spot as the top criminal enterprise. A new gang out of Chinatown was on the rise, lead by a first generation Chinese-American named Mike Chang, who had ties to the old country and a penchant for burying throwing stars in the heads of his victims. Another faction was lead by a woman named Marley Rose. A street kid since age 14, Marley had gotten her start in gambling, prostitution and other vice-related activities, and was now heading up a faction involved in those and other illegal enterprises. She liked to leave roses on her victims' bodies as her calling card. A third faction was stirring on Chicago's south side, lead by an ex-IRA unit commander named Rory Flanagan, who was using his IRA connections to obtain and smuggle guns to the various criminal factions in the city. Santana had been working with Finn's Strike Team and Puck and Puck's new partner, Kitty Wilde, to put the bad people behind bars, but it seemed like, as soon as they took someone down, someone new popped up.

"You need any help?" Quinn asked and shot Santana a sideways glance.

Santana looked at Quinn and smiled. She knew what Quinn meant. "No, hon, we don't, but thank you."

Quinn smiled. "I know, you don't want to break the law."

"Really, hon?" Santana stared at Quinn. "You know, I believe it was _me_ who texted _you_ to come to that Marano/Disciple meeting at the Clinton warehouse, remember? And it was _me_ who begged _you_ to go see a counselor so you _wouldn't_ get prosecuted by_ the law_ for being a civilian who killed like over a dozen people." She raised her eyebrows at Quinn.

"I'm just teasing you", Quinn said, and she winked at Santana.

Santana smiled. She grabbed a beer out of the fridge and then said, "How did your seminar go the other day? Sorry I missed you there."

Quinn turned off the stove and started serving dinner onto plates. "It was good", she said. Quinn had given a self-defense seminar at the JOCT headquarters. Santana had not been able to attend, since she was out at a crime scene when Quinn had been in the office. Since learning who she was and what she had done in Santana's apartment, JOCT, the FBI and various police departments had all contracted Quinn to give self-defense seminars to their field personnel. "People always ask about the crushing-the-windpipe blow and the neck snap, but I don't teach that", she said, shaking her head but smiling. "I mostly stick to joint locks and other crippling-but-non-lethal moves. Dinner's ready, baby", Quinn said. Santana came to the kitchen table, and they sat down to eat.

"Are you doing any design work this week?" Santana asked as she started in.

"No one has contacted me yet", Quinn said, and shrugged. Quinn had just finished up an assignment last week. She didn't really need the money anyway, but she just liked to keep busy. They continued talking through dinner, with Quinn doing most of the talking, and then she refilled her wine glass, got Santana another beer, and they moved to the couch. Quinn half-laid on the couch, and Santana nestled into her.

"Are you okay, baby?" Quinn asked. Santana had seemed preoccupied during dinner.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just like, it's never-fucking-ending. Every time we put someone away, somebody new pops up."

Quinn was quiet for a second, and then said, "Are you _sure_ you don't need any help?" She smiled as she asked.

Santana smiled back. "No, we don't need any help, but thank you again." Her hand slid underneath Quinn's shirt, and her palm ran along Quinn's torso. She could feel the large old scar on Quinn's left rib cage, and then the two new scars on Quinn's stomach from the stab wounds that Dominik had inflicted. Her hand continued to roam around Quinn's torso, and she heard Quinn sigh. She looked up into Quinn's eyes, smiled, and then scooched herself up a bit and gave Quinn a long kiss. "At least, not with work", Santana said. She got up, put her beer on the coffee table, took Quinn's wine glass and put it on the coffee table, then took Quinn by the hand and led her to the bedroom.

_**THE END**_

Thank you so much for reading, and for all of the feedback. As usual, I have included a few thoughts about the story below. Also, since I am currently out of Quinntana ideas, one thought I had was to write more continuing in this AU: maybe another epilogue, where I show more of Quinn and Santana's life together in the future (like maybe Quinn meets Santana's mom, etc.), or maybe even a separate story, where Quinn helps Santana on a future JOCT assignment (or something along those lines). Please let me know thoughts.

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_**Author's Notes**_

First off, I tried to do something a little different for me this time around, which was to write a story that was more of an action story. Again, as I have mentioned, I love Hollywood, and in particular I love Hollywood action movies. Ironically, as far as movies go, I'm actually not much of a romantic drama fan, but it seems like the first two stories I wrote were more in that genre. Having already written two stories like that, and being an action movie fan, I figured I would try this time to write a story that was more of an action-oriented story, and I wanted readers to kind of view it as such – an entertaining Hollywood action movie, the kind you watch not to come away from with some deep meaning, but the kind you watch to just be entertained for a couple of hours. I wanted readers to be able to easily visualize the action as it unfolded. I also wanted to keep it lighter than my other two stories, and I wanted to keep the heavy drama more subdued. Another irony I realized - as much as I like action stories and movies, it turns out that writing action stories is actually harder for me than writing dramatic romances. Writing this story really took me out of my comfort zone, and I struggled a bit here and there with keeping the overall flow and rhythm of an action story going, as well as incorporating non-action elements into the story.

Another thing that was hard was incorporating a love angle into the story. In the first two stories I wrote, the whole idea of each story revolved around Quinn and Santana either falling in love, or already being in love and trying to maintain their love. In essence, love was the essential ingredient of each story. Without it, those two stories wouldn't exist. In this story, I wanted the action to be the main component of the story. I wanted there to be a love component, but I wanted to make it less essential. I wanted to treat it how the love angle in an action movie would be treated: it's there, but it's not the main focus. The plot, as it revolves around the action, is the main focus.

As I mentioned before, I tried to keep the heavy drama more subdued in this story. Many Quinntana stories are centered largely around heavy drama and angst, just like my first two stories are. In addition, I wanted to make the emotional conflict about something different, and something that related to the overall action theme of the story. Many Quinntana stories center around Quinn and Santana balancing the act of chancing a relationship and risking their friendship, or the stories center around the fact that they are in love with each other, but when one is available the other isn't. As I mentioned before, I love those stories too, but I wanted to shake it up this time and see if I could weave a love angle into an action story, but somehow have the emotional conflict between Quinn and Santana tie into the overall action of the story. And again, I tried to make this story so there was less of a point to it than my first two stories. However, if there is a point to this story, I think it is that I wanted the reader to think about morality. What is morality? Who decides what is right and wrong? Do laws really mean right or wrong, or are they not always infallible? Does the fact that something is illegal make it wrong? And lastly, is morality in the eye of the beholder? Do our experiences shape our views of morality, and if we were to experience something new, would our views on morality shift? If you had experienced what either Quinn or Santana had experienced with regards to their families, would your views on morality shift from where they are now? I supposed only you can answer that.

I'd like to touch on a few constructive criticisms I received on the story. I'm addressing them not out of sour grapes, but because I truly think they are worth discussion. The first one is that several people mentioned that Quinn seemed to be superior to Santana. A couple thoughts on that. The first thought is that I did in fact mean to make Quinn appear slightly superior overall (but I ended up taking it a bit too far - the pitfalls of being a novice writer). The main reason I wanted to do that is because I wanted to show that not following rules gives one an advantage. It really doesn't have to do with abilities or anything else. It has to do with the fact that those who do not follow rules are not constrained in ways that those who do follow rules are. And, in general, being less constrained gives one an advantage. Think about two sports teams, playing each other. One team follows the rules, and the other does not. Who has the advantage? The team that doesn't follow the rules. Not having to follow rules could be enough of an advantage for a team that is worse to beat a team that is better, simply because they are not constrained by having to follow the rules, like the better team is.

Now, I'm definitely not advocating always breaking rules. In fact, part of my glamorization of Quinn's character in this story comes from the fact that, unlike her in this story, I am a pretty ardent rule follower. For some reason, it's wired into my brain. Having said that, there are times when I envy those who don't live by the rules, even though I can't do that myself. Sometimes I think of how much easier my life would be (or would have been) if I could just break (or bend) rules and get away with it and not feel bad about it (not major criminal stuff, but minor stuff, like cheating an answer or two on a test, or not paying a bill), but alas, that's just not me. But again, sometimes I do envy those who can take an easier way out and not feel bad about doing so.

As far as Santana starting strong and then slipping, or looking incompetent, what I was trying to show was that love can do funny things to someone, especially when that love is found in the least expected places. Santana meeting Quinn totally threw Santana off of her game, and the last place she ever thought she'd find love was in the suspect of an investigation she was running. And, at the end of the story, even Quinn fell off her game - charging into the warehouse without taking the time to properly assess the situation - just because she thought the woman she was falling in love with was in trouble. I know the feeling first-hand of being thrown off my game, or not being able to concentrate, because I've met someone and am falling in love or have been in love. And, in most circumstances, it's kind of a nice feeling – to be so high up on cloud nine that you just can't seem to function down on earth – except maybe it's not quite as nice when your job requires you to carry a gun and encounter potentially dangerous people on a regular basis.

Regarding constructive criticism, I want to make the point that I really do enjoy receiving it. I know I haven't posted a bio yet, but FYI I work in a creative profession, where good and bad are subjective, and I am used to both giving and receiving constructive criticism. It's too bad that some people posted critical reviews as guests, since their feedback really was good, and I would've loved to have been able to open up dialogs with them. I understand that some people are afraid to put their contact in their reviews, especially critical reviews, since writers often do become offended by any feedback that is not positive. That is understandable - we would all rather receive positive feedback than critical feedback - but it is really too bad. If we are to improve as writers (or in anything else that we do), then receiving critical feedback is just as important as receiving positive feedback – as long as it's constructive (to be clear – trolls hiding behind anonymity and posting feedback like "stupid story" or "stop writing" are bullshit, and that kind of feedback doesn't do anything for anyone, and if you post that in my stories or anyone else's stories, and I find out who you are, I will send Special Forces Quinn after you =)

Thank you again for reading, and again, please let me know your thoughts on continuing in this AU, or feel free to send any further story ideas my way. If I think I can do an idea justice, then I will try it out.


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